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Henley  Edition 


THE    WORKS    OF 

WILLIAM 
SHAKESPEARE 


IN  TEN  VOLUjMES 


©olume  I 

LIFE   OF  WILLIAM    SHAKESPEARE 

HENRY  VI,    PART   ONE 

HENRY   VI,    PART   TWO 

HENRY   VI,    PART    THREE 

P.F.Collier  S-^Son 

NEW    YORK 


I 


s  O 


Copyright  1912 
By  p.  F.  collier  &  SON 


■pVs 

PUBLISHERS'    PREFACE 

Henley  Street,  Stratford-upon-Avon,  is  foi-ever  hallowed 
as  tlie  place  of  Shakespeare' s  birth.  Here  he  was  bom  April 
23,  1564,  and  was  christened  three  days  later,  his  baptismal 
record  reading:  "  1564  April  26,  Gulielraus  filius  Johannes 
Shakspere."  The  Henley  Edition  of  Shakespeare's  works 
commemorates  in  name  the  cradle  of  the  world's  greatest 
poet. 

There  is  inspiration  in  the  very  name  of  Henley,  forever 
associated  with  the  man  who,  in  enriching  our  literature, 
has  almost  revolutionized  our  language.  The  Henley  Edi- 
tion is  a  practical,  scholarly,  clear,  and  comprehensive  pre- 
sentation of  Shakespeare's  complete  works  for  the  general 
reader,  for  the  j^oung,  as  well  as  for  the  mature,  for  the 
everyday  reader,  as  well  as  for  the  special  student.  The 
preparation  of  this  edition  involved  the  collating  of  thou- 
sands of  notes  and  comments  from  over  two  hundred 
eminent  Shakespearean  authorities,  American  and  Euro- 
pean. The  reader  will  appreciate  the  many  superior  features 
of  the  pre.sent  edition,  of  which  the  most  important  may  be 
summarized  here. 

The  text  type  is  two  sizes  larger  than  the  average  type 
used  in  other  sets,  which  gives  a  type  page  that  is  clear  and 
easily  read. 

The  Variorum  notes  appear  throughout  at  the  foot  of 
the  page  they  elucidate,  and  where  they  belong  for  con- 
venience, not  placed  at  the  back  of  the  play  as  in  many 
other  editions.     The  notes  bear  the  initials  of  the  com- 


THE  LIFE  OP 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

By  James  Orchard  Haluwell-Phillipps,  F.R.S. 

In  the  reign  of  King  Edward  the  Sixth  there  lived  in 
Wai-^N'ickshire  a  farmer  named  Richard  Shakespeare,  who 
rented  a  messuage  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  land  at 
Snitterfield,  an  obscure  village  in  that  county.  He  had 
two  sons,  one  of  whom,  named  Henry,  continued  through- 
out his  life  to  reside  in  the  same  parish.  John,  the  other 
son,  left  his  father's  home  about  the  year  1551,  and, 
shortly  afterwards,  is  found  residing  in  the  neighboring 
and  comparatively  large  borough  of  Stratford-on-Avon, 
in  the  locality  which  has  been  known  from  the  middle  ages 
to  the  present  day  as  Henley  Street,  so  called  from  its  being 
the  terminus  of  the  road  from  Henley-in-Arden,  a  market- 
town  about  eight  miles  distant. 

At  this  period,  and  for  many  generations  aftenvards, 
the  sanitary  condition  of  the  thoroughfares  of  Stratford- 
on-Avon  was,  to  our  present  notions,  simply  terrible. 
Under-surface  drainage  of  every  kind  was  then  an  un- 
known art  in  the  district.  There  was  a  far  greater  ex- 
tent of  moisture  in  the  land  than  would  now  be  thought 
possible,  and  streamlets  of  a  water-power  sufficient  for  the 
operations  of  corn-mills  meandered  through  the  town. 
This  general  humidity  intensified  the  evils  arising  from  the 

3 


Life  WILLIAM 

want  of  scavengers,  or  other  effective  appliances  for  the 
preservation  of  cleanliness.  House-slops  were  recklessly 
thrown  into  ill-kept  channels  that  lined  the  sides  of  un- 
nietalled  roads;  pigs  and  geese  too  often  reveled  in  the 
puddles  and  ruts ;  while  here  and  there  small  middens  were 
ever  in  the  course  of  accumulation,  the  receptacles  of  offal 
and  every  species  of  nastiness.  A  regulation  for  the  re- 
moval of  these  collections  to  certain  specified  localities 
interspersed  through  the  borough,  and  known  as  common 
dung-hills,  appears  to  have  been  the  extent  of  the  inter- 
ference that  the  authorities  ventured  or  cared  to  exercise 
in  such  matters.  Sometimes,  when  the  nuisance  was 
thought  to  be  sufficiently  flagrant,  they  made  a  raid  on  those 
inhabitants  who  had  suffered  their  refuse  to  accumulate 
largely  in  the  highways.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  in 
April,  1552,  John  Shakespeare  was  amerced  in  the  sum  of 
twelve-pence  for  having  amassed  what  was  no  doubt  a  con- 
spicuous sterquinarium  before  his  house  in  Henley  Street, 
and  under  these  unsavory  circumstances  does  the  history  of 
the  poet's  father  commence  in  the  records  of  England. 
But  although  there  was  little  excuse  for  his  negligence, 
one  of  the  public  stores  of  filth  being  within  a  stone's  throw 
of  his  residence,  all  that  can  be  said  to  his  disparagement 
is  that  he  was  not  in  advance  of  his  neighbors  in  such  mat- 
ters, two  of  whom  were  coincidently  fined  for  the  same  of- 
fense. 

For  some  years  subsequently  to  this  period,  John  Shake- 
speare was  a  humble  tradesman  at  Stratford-on-Avon, 
holding  no  conspicuous  position  in  the  town ;  yet  still  he 
must  have  been  tolerabl}'  successful  in  business,  for  in  Octo- 
ber, 1556,  he  purchased  two  small  freehold  estates,  one  be- 
ing the  building  in  Henley  Street  annexed  to  that  which  is 

4, 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

now  shown  as  the  Birth-Place,  and  the  other  situated  in 
Grecnhill  Street,  a  road  aftci-wards  called  INIore  Towns  End. 
In  the  year  1557,  however,  his  fortunes  underwent  an  im- 
portant change  through  an  alliance  with  Mary,  the  young- 
est and  fondly-loved  daughter  of  Robert  Arden,  a  wealthy 
farmer  of  Wilmecote,  near  Stratford-on-Avon,  who  had 
died  a  few  months  previously.  A  wealthy  farmer,  indeed, 
for  those  days,  and  one  who  would  have  been  specially  so 
distinguished  in  the  contemporary  provincial  estimate.  He 
possessed  two  farm-houses  with  a  hundred  acres  or  more  of 
land  at  Snittcrfield,  as  well  as  another  one  with  about  fifty 
acres  at  Wilmecote,  the  former  being  occupied  by  tenants 
and  the  latter  by  himself.  In  addition  to  these  he  owned  a 
copyhold  estate  in  the  last-named  parish,  the  extent  of 
which  has  not  been  ascertained.  But  with  all  these  ad- 
vantages he  was  a  fanner,  and  nothing  more, — a  worthy 
fellow  whose  main  anxiety,  as  fully  appears  from  the  rec- 
ords, centered  in  the  welfare  of  his  family,  and  w^ho  had  no 
desire  to  emulate,  however  remotely,  the  position  of  a  coun- 
try gentleman.  The  appointments  of  his  dwelling  were 
probably,  however,  superior  on  the  whole  to  those  which 
were  to  be  found  in  other  residences  of  the  same  class,  in- 
cluding no  fewer  than  eleven  painted-cloths,  a  species  of 
artistic  decoration  that  was  in  those  days  a  favorite  substi- 
tute for  the  more  expensive  tapestry.  Pictures  of  the  kind 
that  are  now  familiar  to  us  were  then  very  rarely  indeed  to 
be  seen,  excepting  in  palaces  or  in  the  larger  mansions  of 
the  nobility.  These  painted-cloths  were  generall}'  formed 
of  canvas  upon  which  were  depicted  the  "Seven  Ages  of 
Man,"  the  "Story  of  the  Prodigal,"  and  such  like;  gro- 
tesque accompaniments,  in  one  or  more  of  the  rooms,  to  the 
"bacon  in  the  roof." 


Life  WILLIAM 

The  inventory  of  Robert  Arden's  goods,  which  was  taken 
shortly  after  his  death  in  1556,  enables  us  to  realize  the 
kind  of  hfe  that  was  followed  by  the  poet's  mother  during 
her  girlhood.     In  the  total  absence  of  books  or  means  of 
intellectual  education,  her  acquirements  must  have  been  re- 
stricted to  an  experimental  knowledge  of  matters  connected 
with  the  farm  and  its  house.     There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
the  maiden  with  the  pretty  name,  she  ivho  has  been  so  often 
represented  as  a  nymph  of  the  forest,  communing  with 
nothing  less  esthetic  than  a  nightingale  or  a   waterfall, 
spent  most  of  her  time  in  the  homeliest  of  rustic  employ- 
ments ;  and  it  is  not  at  all  improbable  that,  in  common  with 
many  other  farmers'  daughters  of  the  period,  she  occasion- 
ally assisted  in  the  more  robust  occupations  of  the  field. 
It  is  at  all  events  not  very  likely  that  a  woman,  unendowed 
with  an  exceptionally  healthy  and  vigorous  frame,  could 
have  been  the  parent  of  a  Shakespeare.     Of  her  personal 
character  or  social  gifts  nothing  whatever  is  known,  but 
it  would  be  a  grave  error  to  assume  that  the  rude  sur- 
roundings of  her  youth  were  incompatible  with  the  pos- 
session of  a  romantic  temperament  and  the  highest  form  of 
subjective  refinement.     Existence,  indeed,  was  passed  in  her 
father's  house  in  some  respects,  we  should  now  say,  rather 
after  the  manner   of   pigs   than   that   of  human   beings. 
Many  of  the  articles  that  are  considered  necessaries  in  the 
humblest  of  modern  cottages  were  not  to  be  seen,^ — there 
were  no  table-knives,  no   forks,  no  crockery.     The  food 
was  manipulated  on  flat  pieces  of  stout  wood,  too  insig- 
nificant in  value  to  be  catalogued,  and  whatever  there  may 
have  been  to  supply  the  places  of  spoons  or  cups  were  no 
doubt  roughly  formed  of  the  same  material ;  but  some  of 
the  larger  objects,  such  as  kitchen-pans,  may  have  been  of 

6 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

pewter  or  latten.  The  means  of  ablution  were  lamentably 
defective,  if,  indeed,  they  were  not  limited  to  what  could 
have  been  supplied  by  an  insulated  pail  of  water,  for  what 
were  called  towels  were  merely  used  for  wiping  the  hands 
after  a  meal,  and  there  was  not  a  single  wash-hand  basin 
in  the  establishment.  As  for  the  inmate  and  other  labor- 
ers, it  was  very  seldom  indeed,  if  ever,  that  they  either 
washed  their  hands  or  combed  their  hair,  nor  is  there  the 
least  reason  for  suspecting  that  those  accomplishments  were 
in  liberal  requisition  in  the  dwellings  of  their  employers. 
But  surely  there  was  nothing  in  all  this  to  have  excluded 
the  unlettered  damsel  from  a  fervid  taste  for  oral  romance, 
that  which  was  then  chiefly  represented  by  tales  of  the 
fairies,  the  knights,  or  the  giants, — nothing  to  debar  the 
high  probability  of  her  recitals  of  them  having  fascinated 
her  illustrious  son  in  the  days  of  his  childhood, — nothing 
to  disturb  the  graceful  suggestion  that  some  of  his  im- 
pressions of  perfect  womanhood  had  their  origin  in  his 
recollections  of  the  faultless  nature  of  the  matron  of  Hen- 
ley Street. 

The  maiden  name  of  Robert  Arden's  wife  has  not  been 
discovered,  but  it  is  ascertained  that  he  had  contracted  a 
second  marriage  with  Agnes  Hill,  the  widow  of  a  substan- 
tial farmer  of  Bearley,  and.  that,  in  a  settlement  which  was 
probably  made  on  that  occasion,  he  had  reserved  to  his 
daughter  Mary  the  reversion  to  a  portion  of  a  large  estate 
at  Snitterfield,  her  step-mother  taking  only  a  life-interest. 
Some  part  of  this  land  was  in  the  occupation  of  Richard 
Shakespeare,  the  poet's  grandfather,  whence  may  have 
arisen  the  acquaintanceship  between  the  two  families.  In 
addition  to  this  reversion,  INfary  Arden  received,  under  the 
provisions  of  her  father's  will,  not  only  a  handsome  pe- 

7 


Life  WILLIAJVI 

cuniary  legacy,  but  the  fee-simple  of  a  valuable  property 
at  Wilmecote,  the  latter,  which  was  known  as  Asbies,  con- 
sisting of  a  house  with  nearly  sixty  acres  of  land.  An  esti- 
mate of  these  advantages,  viewed  relatively  to  his  own  posi- 
tion, would  no  doubt  have  given  John  Shakespeare  the 
reputation  among  his  neighbors  of  having  married  an  opu- 
lent heiress,  his  now  comparative  affluence  investing  him 
with  no  small  degree  of  local  importance.  His  official  ca- 
reer at  once  commenced  by  his  election  in  1557  as  one  of 
the  ale-tasters,  an  officer  appointed  for  the  supervision  of 
malt  liquors  and  bread.  About  the  same  time  he  was  re- 
ceived into  the  Corporation,  taking  the  lowest  rank,  as  was 
usual  with  new  comers,  that  of  a  burgess ;  and  in  the  Sep- 
tember of  the  following  year,  1558,  he  was  appointed  one 
of  the  four  petty  constables  by  a  vote  of  the  jury  of  the 
Court  Leet.  He  was  re-elected  to  that  quaternion  on  Oc- 
tober 6,  1559,  for  another  year,  and  on  the  same  day  he 
was  chosen  one  of  the  affeerors  appointed  to  determine  the 
fines  for  those  offenses  which  were  punishable  arbitrarily, 
and  for  which  no  express  penalties  were  prescribed  by  stat- 
ute. This  latter  office  he  again  filled  in  1561,  when  he  was 
elected  one  of  the  Chamberlains  of  the  borough,  an  office 
that  he  held  for  two  years,  delivering  his  second  account  to 
the  Corporation  in  the  first  month  of  1564. 

The  ostensible  business  followed  by  John  Shakespeare 
was  that  of  a  glover,  but  after  his  marriage  he  speculated 
largely  in  wool  purchased  from  the  neighboring  farmers, 
and  occasionally  also  dealt  in  corn  and  other  articles. 
In  those  days,  especially  in  small  provincial  towns,  the  con- 
centration of  several  trades  into  the  hands  of  one  person 
was  very  usual,  and,  in  many  cases,  no  matter  how  numer- 
ous and  complicated  were  the  intermediate  processes,  the 

8 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

producer  of  the  raw  material  was  frequently  its  manu- 
facturer. Thus  a  glover  might,  and  sometimes  did,  rear 
the  sheep  that  furnished  him  with  meat,  skins,  wool,  and 
leather.  Whether  John  Shakespeare  so  conducted  his  busi- 
ness is  unknown,  but  it  is  certain  that  in  addition  to  his 
trade  in  gloves,  which  also,  as  was  usual,  included  the  sale  of 
divers  articles  made  of  leather,  he  entered  into  a  variety  of 
other  speculations. 

In  Henley  Street,  in  what  was  for  those  days  an  un- 
usually large  and  commodious  residence  for  a  provincial 
tradesman,  and  upon  or  almost  immediately  before  April 
22,  1564,  but  most  probably  on  that  Saturday,  the  eldest 
son  of  John  and  Mary  Shakespeare,  he  who  was  after- 
wards to  be  the  national  poet  of  England,  was  bom.  An 
apartment  on  the  first  floor  of  that  house  is  shown  to  this 
day,  through  unvarying  tradition,  as  the  birth-room  of  the 
great  dramatist,  who  was  baptized  on  the  following  Wednes- 
day, April  26,  receiving  the  Christian  name  of  William. 
He  was  then,  and  continued  to  be  for  more  than  two  years, 
an  only  child,  two  girls,  daughters  of  the  same  parents,  who 
were  bom  previously,  having  died  in  their  infancy. 

The  house  in  which  Shakespeare  was  bom  must  have 
been  erected  in  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  but 
the  alterations  that  it  has  since  undergone  have  eflPaced 
much  of  its  original  character.  Inhabited  at  various 
periods  by  tradesmen  of  different  occupations,  it  could  not 
possibly  have  endured  through  the  long  course  of  up- 
wards of  three  centuries  without  having  been  subjected  to 
numerous  repairs  and  modifications.  The  general  form 
and  arrangement  of  the  tenement  that  was  purchased  in 
1556  may  yet,  however,  be  distinctly  traced,  and  many 
of  the  old  timbers,  as  well  as  pieces  of  the  ancient  rough 

9 


Life  WILLIAM 

stone-work,  still  remain.  There  are  also  portions  of  the 
chimneys,  the  fire-place  surroundings  and  the  stone  base- 
ment-floor, that  have  been  untouched;  but  most,  if  not  all, 
of  the  lighter  wood-work  belongs  to  a  more  recent  period. 
It  may  be  confidently  asserted  that  there  is  only  one  room 
in  the  entire  building  which  has  not  been  greatly  changed 
since  the  days  of  the  poet's  boyhood.  This  is  the  antique 
cellar  under  the  sitting-room,  from  which  it  is  approached 
by  a  diminutive  flight  of  steps.  It  is  a  very  small  apart- 
ment, measuring  onl^'  nine  by  ten  feet,  but  near  "that  small 
most  greatly  liv'd  this  star  of  England." 

In  the  July  of  this  year  of  the  poet's  birth,  1564,  a 
violent  plague,  intensified  no  doubt  by  sanitary  neglect, 
broke  out  in  the  town,  but  the  family  in  Henley  Street 
providentially  escaped  its  ravages.  John  Shakespeare  con- 
tributed on  this  occasion  fairly,  at  least,  if  not  liberally, 
both  towards  the  relief  of  the  poor  and  of  those  who  were 
attacked  by  the  epidemic. 

In  March,  1565,  John  Shakespeare,  with  the  assistance 
of  his  former  colleague  in  the  same  office,  made  up  the 
accounts  of  the  Chamberlains  of  the  borough  for  the  year 
ending  at  the  previous  Michaelmas.  Neither  of  these 
worthies  could  even  write  their  own  names,  but  nearly 
all  tradesmen  then  reckoned  with  counters,  the  results  on 
important  occasions  being  entered  by  professional  scriven- 
ers. The  poet's  father  seems  to  have  been  an  adept  in  the 
former  kind  of  work,  for  in  February,  1566,  having  been 
elected  an  alderman  in  the  previous  summer,  he  individually 
superintended  the  making  up  of  the  accounts  of  the  Cham- 
berlains for  the  preceding  oflficial  year,  at  v/hich  time  he 
was  paid  over  three  pounds,  equivalent  to  more  than  thirty 
of  present  money,  that  had  been  owing  to  him  for  some 

10 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

time  by  the  Corporation.  In  the  month  of  October,  156G, 
another  son,  who  was  christened  Gilbert  on  the  thirteenth, 
was  bom,  the  poet  being  then  nearly  two  and  a  half  years 
old.  This  Gilbert,  who  was  educated  at  the  Free  School, 
in  after  life  entered  into  business  in  London  as  a  haber- 
dasher, returning,  however,  in  the  early  part  of  the  follov/- 
ing  century,  to  his  native  town,  where  he  is  found,  in  1602, 
completing  an  important  legal  transaction  with  which  he 
was  entrusted  by  the  great  dramatist.  His  Christian  name 
was  probably  derived  from  that  of  one  of  his  father's 
neighbors,  Gilbert  Bradley,  who  was  a  glover  in  Henley 
Street,  residing  near  the  Birth-Place  and  on  the  same  side 
of  the  way. 

In  September,  1567,  Robei-t  Perrot,  a  brewer,  John 
Shakespeare,  and  Ralph  Cawdrey,  a  butcher,  were  nomi- 
nated for  the  office  of  the  High  Bailiff,  or,  as  that  digni- 
tary was  subsequently  called,  the  Mayor.  The  last-named 
candidate  was  the  one  who  was  elected.  It  is  upon  this 
occasion  that  the  poet's  father  is  alluded  to  for  the  first 
time  in  the  local  records  as  "Mr.  Shakspeyr."  He  had 
been  previously  therein  mentioned  either  as  John  Shake- 
speare, or  briefly  as  Shakespeare,  and  the  addition  of  the 
title  was  in  those  days  no  small  indication  of  an  advance  in 
social  position.  There  is,  indeed,  no  doubt  that,  during 
the  early  years  of  Shakespeare's  boyhood,  his  father  Avas 
one  of  the  leading  men  in  Stratford-on-Avon.  On  Sep- 
tember 4,  1568,  John  Shakespeare, — "Mr.  John  Shaky- 
sper,"  as  he  is  called  in  that  day's  record, — was  chosen 
High  Bailiff,  attaining  thus  the  most  distinguished  official 
position  in  the  town  after  an  active  connection  with  its  af- 
fairs during  the  preceding  eleven  years.  The  poet  had 
entered  his  fifth  year  in  the  previous  month  of  April,  the 

11 


jLife  WILLIAM 

family  in  Henley  Street  now  consisting  of  his  parents, 
his  brother  Gilbert,  who  was  very  nearly  two  years  old,  and 
himself. 

The  new  religious  system  was  now  firmly  established  at 
Stratford.  Although  the  churchwardens'  accounts  are  not 
preserved,  and  the  materials  for  the  local  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory are  exceedingly  scanty,  there  are  entries  in  the  tovm 
archives  respecting  the  Guild  Chapel  which  leave  no  doubt 
on  the  subject.  The  rood-loft  is  mentioned  as  having  been 
taken  down  in  the  year  of  the  poet's  birth,  1564,  a  number 
of  the  images  in  the  building  having  been  previously  "de- 
faced," that  is  to  say,  at  some  time  between  Michaelmas, 
1562,  and  Michaelmas,  1563,  John  Shakespeare  himself 
having  been  on  the  latter  occasion  one  of  the  chamberlains 
through  whom  the  expenses  of  the  mutilation  were  de- 
frayed. Under  these  circumstances  there  can  be  little  if 
any  doubt  that,  at  the  time  of  his  accession  to  an  office  that 
legally  involved  the  responsibility  of  taking  the  oath  of 
supremacy,  he  had  outwardly  conformed  to  the  Protestant 
rule,  and  there  is  certainly  as  little  that  he  was  one  of  the 
many  of  those  holding  a  similar  position  in  the  Catholic 
stronghold  of  Warwickshire  who  were  secretly  attached  to 
the  old  religion.  If  this  had  not  been  the  case,  it  is  im- 
possible to  believe,  no  matter  how  plausible  were  the  ex- 
planations that  were  offered,  that  his  name  could,  at  a 
subsequent  period  and  after  the  great  penal  legislation  of 
1581,  have  been  included  in  more  than  one  list  of  suspected 
recusants.  For  this  he  has  been  termed  an  unconscientious 
hypocrite,  but  he  shared  his  dissimulation  with  myriads 
of  his  countrymen,  and  it  is  altogether  unfair  to  place  an 
enforced  in  the  same  category  with  a  spontaneous  insin- 
cerity.    Some  anyhow  will  be  found  to  say  a  kind  word  in 

12 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

excuse  for  a  man  who,  in  times  of  a  virulent  and  crushing 
persecution,  was  unwilhng  to  sacrifice  the  temporal  inter- 
ests of  his  wife  and  children  as  well  as  his  own  on  the  altar 
of  open  non-conformity.  It  should  be  added  that  the  vest- 
ments belonging  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  which 
had  been  out  of  use  for  some  years,  were  sold  by  the  Cor- 
poration in  1571 ;  and  these  were  among  the  last  remaining 
vestiges  of  a  ritual  that  was  not  pubHcly  celebrated  at 
Stratford  in  the  life-time  of  the  great  di-amatist. 

It  must  have  been  somewhere  about  this  period,  1668, 
that  Shakespeare  entered  into  the  mysteries  of  the  horn- 
book and  the  A.  B.  C.  Although  both  his  parents  were 
absolutely  illiterate,  they  had  the  sagacity  to  appreciate 
the  importance  of  an  education  for  their  son,  and  the 
poet,  somehow  or  other,  was  taught  to  read  and  write, 
the  necessary  preliminaries  to  admission  into  the  Free 
School.  There  were  few  persons  at  that  time  at  Stratford- 
on-Avon  capable  of  initiating  him  even  into  these  pre- 
paratory accomplishments,  but  John  Shakespeare,  in  his 
official  position,  could  hardly  have  encountered  much  dif- 
ficulty in  finding  a  suitable  instructor.  There  was,  for 
instance,  Higford,  the  Steward  of  the  Court  of  Record, 
and  the  person  who  transcribed  some  of  his  accounts  when 
he  was  the  borough  Chamberlain ;  but  it  is  as  likely  as  not 
that  the  poet  received  the  first  rudiments  of  education  from 
older  boys  who  were  some  way  advanced  in  their  school 
career. 

A  passion  for  the  drama  is  with  some  natures  an  instinct, 
and  it  would  appear  that  the  poet's  father  had  an  express 
taste  in  that  dii-ection.  At  all  events,  dramatic  enter- 
tainments arc  first  heard  of  at  Stratford-on-Avon  during 
the  year  of  his  bailiffship,   and  were,   it  may   fairly   be 

13 


Life  WILLIAM 

presumed,  introduced  in  unison  with  his  wishes  as  they 
certainly  must  have  been  with  his  sanction.  At  some 
period  between  Michaelmas,  1568,  and  the  same  day  in 
1569,  the  Queen's  and  the  Earl  of  Worcester's  players 
visited  the  town  and  gave  representations  before  the  Coun- 
cil, the  former  company  receiving  nine  shillings  and  the 
latter  twelve  pence  for  their  first  performances,  to  which 
the  public  were  admitted  without  payment.  They  doubt- 
lessly gave  other  theatrical  entertainments  with  stated 
charges  for  admission,  but  there  would,  of  course,  be  no 
entries  of  those  performances  in  the  municipal  accounts ; 
and  sometimes  there  were  bodies  of  actors  in  the  town 
to  whom  the  official  liberality  was  not  extended.  No 
notice  whatever  of  the  latter  companies  would  have  been 
registered. 

Were  it  not  for  the  record  of  a  correlative  incident,  it 
would  have  been  idle  to  have  hazarded  a  conjecture  on 
the  interesting  question, — was  the  poet,  who  was  then  in 
his  fifth  or  sixth  year,  a  spectator  at  either  of  these  per- 
formances? If,  however,  it  can  be  shown  that,  in  a  neigh- 
boring county  about  the  same  time,  there  was  an  inhabit- 
ant of  a  city  who  took  his  little  boy,  one  bom  in  the  same 
year  with  Shakespeare,  1564,  to  a  free  dramatic  enter- 
tainment exhibited  as  were  those  at  Stratford-on-Avon 
before  the  Corporation  under  precisely  similar  conditions, 
there  then  arises  a  reasonable  probability  that  we  should 
be  justified  in  giving  an  affirmative  reply  to  the  enquiry. 
There  is  such  an  evidence  in  the  account  left  by  a  person 
of  the  name  of  Willis,  of  "a  stage-play  which  I  saw  when 
I  was  a  child,"  and  included  by  him  in  a  confidential  nar- 
rative of  his  moral  and  religious  life,  a  sort  of  autobiog- 

14 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

raphy,  which,  in  his  old  age,  he  addressed  to  his  wife 
and  children. 

The  curious  narrative  given  by  Willis  is  in  the  follow- 
ing terms, — "in  the  city  of  Gloucester  the  manner  is,  as  I 
think  it  is  in  other  like  corporations,  that,  when  players 
of  enterludes  come  to  towne,  they  first  attend  the  Mayor 
to  enforme  him  what  noble-mans  servants  they  are,  and 
so  to  get  licence  for  their  publike  playing;  and  if  the 
Mayor  like  the  actors,  or  would  shew  respect  to  their 
lord  and  master,  he  appoints  them  to  play  their  first  play 
before  himselfe  and  the  Aldermen  and  Common  Counsell 
of  the  city;  and  that  is  called  the  Mayors  play,  where 
every  one  that  will  comes  in  without  money,  the  Mayor 
giving  the  players  a  reward  as  hee  thinks  fit  to  shew 
respect  unto  them.  At  such  a  play  my  father  tooke  me 
with  him,  and  made  mee  stand  between  his  leggs  as  he 
sate  upon  one  of  the  benches,  where  wee  saw  and  heard 
very  well.  The  play  was  called  the  Cradle  of  Security, 
wherin  was  personated  a  king  or  some  great  prince,  with 
his  courtiers  of  severall  kinds,  amongst  which  three  ladies 
were  in  speciall  grace  with  him;  and  they,  keeping  him 
in  delights  and  pleasures,  drew  him  from  his  graver 
counsellors,  hearing  of  sermons  and  listning  to  good 
counsell  and  admonitions,  that,  in  the  end,  they  got  him 
to  lye  downe  in  a  cradle  upon  the  stage,  where  these 
three  ladies,  joyning  in  a  sweet  song,  rocked  him  asleepe 
that  he  snorted  againe;  and  in  the  meane  time  closely 
conveyed  under  the  cloaths  wherewithall  he  was  covered 
a  vizard,  like  a  swine's  snout,  upon  his  face,  with  three 
wire  chaines  fastned  thereunto,  the  other  end  whereof 
being  holden  severally  by  those  three  ladies  who  fall  to 
singing  againe,  and  then  discovered  his  face  that  the  spec- 

15 


Life  WILLIAM 

tators  might  see  how  they  had  transformed  him,  going 
on  with  their  singing.  Whilst  all  this  was  acting,  there 
came  forth  of  another  doore  at  the  farthest  end  of  the 
stage  two  old  men,  the  one  in  blew  with  a  serjeant-at-armes 
his  mace  on  his  shoulder,  the  other  in  red  with  a  drawn 
sword  in  his  hand  and  leaning  with  the  other  hand  upon 
the  others  shoulder;  and  so  they  two  went  along  in  a 
soft  pace  round  about  by  the  skirt  of  the  stage,  till  at 
last  they  came  to  the  cradle,  when  all  the  court  was  in 
greatest  jollity;  and  then  the  foremost  old  man  with  his 
mace  stroke  a  fearfull  blow  upon  the  cradle,  whereat  all 
the  courtiers,  with  the  three  ladies  and  the  vizard,  all  van- 
ished; and  the  desolate  prince  starting  up  bare-faced,  and 
finding  himself e  thus  sent  for  to  judgement,  made  a  la- 
mentable complaint  of  his  miserable  case,  and  so  was  car- 
ried away  by  wicked  spirits.  This  prince  did  personate 
in  the  morrall  the  Wicked  of  the  World ;  the  three  ladies, 
Pride,  Covetousnesse  and  Luxury ;  the  two  old  men,  the 
End  of  the  World  and  the  Last  Judgment.  This  sight 
tooke  such  impression  in  me  that,  when  I  came  towards 
mans  estate,  it  was  as  fresh  in  my  memory  as  if  I  had 
seen  it  newly  acted,"  (Willis's  Mownt  Tabor  or  Pri'vate 
Exercises  of  a  Penitent  Sinner,  published  in  the  yeare  of 
his  age  75,  anno  Dom.  1639,  pp.  110-113.  Who  can  be 
so  pitiless  to  the  imagination  as  not  to  erase  the  name  of 
Gloucester  in  the  preceding  anecdote,  and  replace  it  by 
that  of  Stratf ord-on-Avon  ? 

Homely  and  rude  as  such  an  allegorical  drama  as  the 
Cradle  of  Security  would  now  be  considered,  it  was  yet 
an  advance  in  dramatic  construction  upon  the  medieval 
religious  plays  generally  known  as  mysteries,  which  were 
still  in  favor  with  the  public  and  were  of  an  exceedingly 

16 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

primitive  description.  The  latter  were,  however,  put  on 
the  stage  with  far  more  elaborate  appliances,  there  being 
no  reason  for  believing  that  the  itinerant  platform  of  the 
later  drama  was  provided  with  much  beyond  a  few 
properties.  The  theater  of  the  mysteries  consisted  of  a 
movable  wooden  rectangular  structure  of  two  rooms  one 
over  the  other,  the  lower  closed,  the  upper  one,  that  in 
which  the  performances  took  place,  being  open  at  least 
on  one  side  to  the  audience.  The  vehicle  itself,  every 
portion  of  which  that  was  visible  to  the  audience  was 
grotesquely  painted,  was  furnished  in  the  upper  room  with 
tapestries  that  answered  the  purposes  of  scenery,  and  with 
mechanical  appliances  for  the  disposition  of  the  various 
objects  introduced,  such  as  hell-mouth,  a  favorite  property 
on  the  ancient  English  stage.  This  consisted  of  a  huge 
face  constructed  of  painted  canvas  exhibiting  glaring  eyes 
and  a  red  nose  of  enormous  dimensions ;  the  whole  so 
contrived  with  movable  jaws  of  large,  projecting  teeth, 
that,  when  the  mouth  opened,  flames  could  be  seen  within 
the  hideoi  aperture;  the  fire  being  probably  represented 
by  the  skillful  management  of  links  or  torches  held  behind 
the  painted  canvas.  There  was  frequently  at  the  back  of 
the  stage  a  raised  platform  to  which  there  was  an  ascent 
by  steps  from  the  floor  of  the  pageant  and  sometimes  an 
important  part  of  the  action  of  the  mystery  was  enacted 
upon  it.  Some  of  the  properties  however  rude,  must 
have  been  of  large  dimensions.  They  were  generally 
made  of  wood,  which  was  invariably  painted,  but  some 
appear  to  have  been  constructed  of  basket-work  covered 
over  with  painted  cloths.  The  larger  ones  were  cities 
with  pinnacles  and  towers,  kings'  palaces,  temples,  castles 
and  such  like,  some  probably  not  very  unlike  decorated 

17 


Life  WILLIAM 

sentry-boxes.  Among  the  miscellaneous  properties  may 
be  named  "a  rybbe  colleryd  red,"  which  was  no  doubt  used 
in  the  mystery  of  the  creation.  Clouds  were  represented  by 
painted  cloths  so  contrived  that  they  could  open  and  show 
angels  in  the  heavens.  Horses  and  other  like  animals 
were  generally  formed  with  hoops  and  laths  that  were 
wrapped  in  canvas,  the  latter  being  afterwards  painted 
in  imitation  of  nature.  Artificial  trees  were  introduced, 
and  so  were  beds,  tombs,  pulpits,  ships,  ladders,  and 
numerous  other  articles.  One  of  the  quaintest  contriv- 
ances was  that  which  was  intended  to  convey  the  idea 
of  an  earthquake,  which  seems  to  have  been  attempted 
by  means  of  some  mechanism  within  a  barrel.  In  the 
lower  room,  connected  with  pulleys  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  pageant,  was  a  windlass  used  for  the  purpose 
of  lowering  or  raising  the  larger  properties,  and  for 
various  objects  for  which  movable  ropes  could  be  em- 
ployed. Some  of  the  oth^er  machinery  was  evidently  of 
an  ingenious  character,  but  its  exact  nature  has  not  been 
ascertained. 

The  costumes  of  many  of  the  personages  in  the  mys- 
teries were  of  a  grotesque  and  fanciful  description  but 
in  some  instances,  as  in  those  o-f  Adam  and  Eve,  there 
weiS  an  attempt  to  make  the  dresses  harmonize  with  the 
circumstances  of  the  history.  Some  writers,  interpreting 
the  stage-directions  too  literally,  have  asserted  that  those 
characters  were  introduced  upon  the  pageant  in  a  state 
of  nudity.  This  was  certainly  not  the  case.  When  they 
were  presumed  to  be  destitute  of  clothing,  they  appeared 
in  dresses  made  either  of  white  leather  or  of  flesh-colored 
cloths,  over  which  at  the  proper  time  were  thrown  the 
garments  of  skins.     There  were  no  doubt  some  incidents 

18 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

represented  in  the  old  English  mysteries  which  would  now 
be  considered  indecorous,  but  it  should  be  borne  in  mind 
that  every  age  has,  within  certain  limits,  its  own  con- 
ventional and  frequently  irrational  sentiments  of  tolera- 
tion and  propriety.  Adam  and  Eve  attired  in  white 
leather  and  pensonified  by  men,  for  actresses  were  then 
unknown,  scarcely  could  have  realized  to  the  spectator 
even  a  generic  idea  of  the  nude,  but  at  all  events  there 
was  nothing  in  any  of  the  theatrical  costumes  of  the 
early  drama  which  can  be  fairly  considered  to  be  of  an 
immodest  character,  although  many  of  them  were  ex- 
travagantly whimsical.  Thus  Herod  was  always  intro- 
duced wearing  red  gloves,  while  his  clothes  and  head- 
gear seem  to  have  been  painted  or  dyed  in  a  variety  of 
colors,  so  that,  as  far  as  costume  could  assist  the  decep- 
tion, he  probably  appeared,  when  brandishing  his  flaming 
sword,  as  fierce  and  hideous  a  tyrant  as  could  well  have 
been  represented.  Pontius  Pilate  was  usually  enwrapped 
in  a  large  green  cloak,  which  opened  in  front  to  enable 
him  to  wield  an  immense  club.  The  latter  was  humanely 
adapted  to  his  strength  by  the  weight  being  chiefly  re- 
stricted to  that  of  the  outer  case,  the  inside  being  lightly 
stuffed  with  wool.  The  Devil  was  another  important 
character,  who  was  also  grotesquely  arrayed  and  had  a 
mask  or  false  head  which  frequently  required  either  mend- 
ing or  painting.  Masks  were  worn  by  several  other  per- 
sonages, though  it  would  appear  that  in  some  instances 
the  operation  of  painting  the  faces  of  the  actors  was 
substituted.  Wigs  of  false  hair,  either  gilded  or  of  red, 
yellow,  and  other  colors,  were  also  much  in  request. 

That     Shakespeare,     in     his     early     youth,     witnessed 
representations     of     some     ef     these     mysteries,      can- 

19 


Life  WILLIAM 

not  admit  of  a  reasonable  doubt;  for  although 
the  ordinary  church-plays  were  by  no  means  ex- 
tinct, they  survived  only  in  particular  locaHties,  and 
do  not  appear  to  have  been  retained  in  Stratford  or  its 
neighborhood.  The  performances  v.hich  then  took  place 
nearly  every  year  at  Coventry  attracted  hosts  of  spec- 
tators from  all  parts  of  the  country,  while,  at  occasional 
intervals,  the  mystery  players  of  that  city  made  theatrical 
progresses  to  various  other  places.  It  is  not  known 
whether  they  favored  Stratford-on-Avon  with  a  profes- 
sional visit,  but  it  is  not  at  all  improbable  that  they  did, 
for  they  must  have  passed  through  the  town  in  their  way 
to  Bristol,  where  it  is  recorded  that  they  gave  a  per- 
formance in  the  year  1570.  Among  the  mysteries  prob- 
ably recollected  by  Shakespeare  was  one  in  which  the 
King  was  introduced  as  Herod  of  Jewry,  in  which  the 
children  of  Bethlehem  were  barbarously  speared,  the 
soldiers  disregarding  the  frantic  shrieks  of  the  bereaved 
mothers.  In  the  collection  known  as  the  Coventry  Mys- 
teries^ a  soldier  appears  before  Herod  with  a  child  on  the 
end  of  his  spear  in  evidence  of  the  accomplishment  of 
the  King's  commands,  a  scene  to  be  remembered,  how- 
ever rude  may  have  been  the  property  which  represiented 
the  infant;  while  the  extravagance  of  rage,  which  fonned 
one  of  the  then  main  dramatic  characteristics  of  that 
sovereign,  must  have  made  a  deep  impression  on  a  youth- 
ful spectator.  The  idea  of  such  a  history  being  suscep- 
tible of  exaggeration  into  burlesque  never  entered  a 
spectator's  mind  in  those  days,  and  the  impression  made 
upon  him  was  probably  increased  by  the  style  of  Herod's 
costume. 

Besides  the  allusions  made  by  the  great  dramatist  to 

20 

Shk-1-1 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

the  Herod  of  the  Coventry  plajers,  there  are  indications 
that  other  grotesque  performers  were  occasionally  in  his 
recollection,  those  who  with  blackened  faces  acted  the 
parts  of  the  Black  Souls.  There  are  several  references 
in  Shakespeare  to  condemned  souls  being  of  this  color,  and 
in  one  place  there  is  an  illusion  to  them  in  the  language 
of  the  mysteries.  FalstafF  is  reported  to  have  said  of  a 
flea  on  Bardolph's  red  nose  that  "it  was  a  black  soul 
burning  in  hell;"  and,  in  the  Coventry  plays,  the  Black 
or  Damned  Souls  appeared  with  sooty  faces  and  attired 
in  a  motley  costume  of  yellow  and  black.  It  is  certainly 
just  possible  that  the  notions  of  Herod  and  the  Black 
Souls  may  have  been  derived  from  other  sources,  but  the 
more  natural  probability  is  that  they  are  absolute  recol- 
lections of  the  Coventry  plays. 

The  period  of  Shakespeare's  boyhood  was  also  that  of 
what  was  practically  the  last  era  of  the  real  ancient 
English  mystery.  There  were,  it  is  true,  occasional  per- 
formances of  them  up  to  the  reign  of  James  the  First, 
but  they  became  obsolete  throughout  nearly  all  the 
country  about  tlie  year  1580.  Previously  to  the  latter 
date  they  had  for  many  generations  served  as  media 
for  religious  instruction.  In  days  when  education  of  any 
kind  was  a  rarity,  and  spiritual  religion  an  impossibility 
or  at  least  restricted  to  very  few,  appeals  to  the  senses 
in  illustration  of  theological  subjects  were  wisely  en- 
couraged by  the  Church.  The  impression  made  on  the 
rude  and  uninstructed  mind  by  the  representations  of 
incidents  in  sacred  history  and  religious  tradition  by  liv- 
ing characters,  must  have  been  far  more  profound  than 
any  which  could  have  been  conveyed  by  the  genius  of 
the  sculptor  or  painter,  or  by  the  eloquence  of  the  priest. 
SLk-l-2  21 


Life  WILLIAJM 

Notwithstanding,  therefore,  the  opposition  that  these  per- 
formances encountered  at  the  hands  of  a  section  of 
churchmen,  who  apprehended  that  the  introduction  of  the 
comic  element  would  ultimately  tend  to  feelings  of  ir- 
reverence, it  is  found  that,  in  spite  of  occasional  abuses, 
they  long  continued  to  be  one  of  the  most  effectual  means 
of  disseminating  a  knowledge  of  Scriptural  history  and 
of  inculcating  belief  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Church.  In 
the  Hundred  Mery  Talys,  a  collection  which  was  very 
popular  in  England  throughout  the  sixteenth  century, 
there  is  a  story  of  a  village  priest  in  Warwickshire  who 
preached  a  sermon  on  the  Articles  of  the  Creed,  telling 
the  congregation  at  the  end  of  his  discourse, — "these 
artycles  ye  be  bounde  to  beleve,  for  they  be  trew  and  of 
auctoryte;  and  y{  you  beleve  not  me,  then  for  a  more 
suerte  and  suffycyent  auctoryte  go  your  way  to  Convent  re, 
and  there  ye  shall  se  them  all  plaj^d  in  Corpus  Cristi 
playe."  Although  this  is  related  as  a  mere  anecdote,  it 
well  illustrates  the  value  which  was  then  attached  to  the 
teachings  of  the  ancient  stage.  Even  as  lately  as  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth  century  there  could  have  been 
found  in  England  an  example  of  a  person  whose  knowl- 
edge of  the  Scriptures  was  limited  to  his  recollections  of 
the  performance  of  a  mystery.  The  Rev.  John  Shaw, 
who  was  the  temporary  chaplain  in  a  village  in  Lan- 
cashire in  1644,  narrates  the  following  curious  anecdote 
respecting  one  of  its  inhabitants, — "one  day  an  old  man 
about  sixty,  sensible  enough  in  other  things,  and  living 
in  the  parish  of  Cartmel,  coming  to  me  about  some  busi- 
ness, I  told  him  that  he  belonged  to  my  care  and  charge, 
and  I  desired  to  be  informed  in  his  knowledge  of  religion ; 
— I  asked  him  how  many  Gods  there  were;  he  said,  he 

22 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

knew  not; — I,  infonning'  him,  asked  him  again  how  he 
thought  to  be  saved;  he  answered  he  could  not  tell,  yet 
thought  that  was  a  harder  question  than  the  other; — I 
told  him  that  the  way  to  salvation  was  by  Jesus  Christ, 
God-man,  who,  as  He  was  man,  shed  His  blood  for 
us  on  the  crosse,  etc.; — Oh,  sir,  said  he,  I  think 
I  heard  of  that  man  you  speak  of  once  in  a  play  at 
Kendall  called  Corpus  Christi  Play,  where  there  was  a 
man  on  a  tree  and  blood  ran  downc,  etc.,  and  after  he  pro- 
fessed that  he  could  not  remember  that  ever  he  heard  of 
salvation  by  Jesus  Christ  but  in  that  play."  It  is  impos- 
sible to  say  to  what  extent  even  the  Scriptural  allusions 
in  the  works  of  Shakespeare  himself  may  not  be  at- 
tributed to  recollections  of  such  performances,  for  in 
one  instance  at  least  the  reference  by  the  great  dramatist 
is  to  the  history  as  represented  in  those  plays,  not  to 
that  recorded  in  the  New  Testament.  The  English 
mysteries,  indeed,  never  lost  their  position  as  religious 
instructors,  a  fact  which,  viewed  in  connection  with  that 
of  a  widely-spread  affection  for  the  old  religion,  appears 
to  account  for  their  long  continuance  in  a  practically 
unaltered  state  while  other  forais  of  the  drama  were  beincT 
developed  by  their  side.  From  the  fourteenth  century 
until  the  termination  of  Shakespeare's  youthful  days  they 
remained  the  simple  poetic  versions  in  dialogue  of  religious 
incidents  of  rarious  kinds,  enlivened  by  the  occasional 
admission  of  humorous  scenes.  In  some  few  instances  the 
theological  narrative  was  made  subservient  to  the  comic 
action,  but  as  a  rule  the  mysteries  were  designed  to  bring 
before  the  audience  merely  the  personages  and  events  of 
religious  history.  Allegorical  characters  had  been  occa- 
sionally introduced,  and  about  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 

23 


Life  WILLIAM 

century  there  appeared  a  new  kind  of  English  dramatic 
composition  apparently  borrowed  from  France,  in  which 
the  personages  were  either  wholly  or  almost  exclusively 
of  that  description.  When  the  chief  object  of  a 
performance  of  this  nature,  like  that  of  the  Cradle  of 
Security  previously  described,  was  to  inculcate  a  moral 
lesson,  it  was  sometimes  called  either  a  Moral  or  a  Moral- 
play,  terms  which  continued  in  use  till  the  seventeenth 
century,  and  were  licentiously  applied  by  some  early 
writers  to  any  dramas  which  were  of  an  ethical  or  edu- 
cational character.  Morals  were  not  only  performed  in 
Shakespeare's  day,  but  continued  to  be  a  then  recognized 
form  of  dramatic  composition.  Some  of  them  were 
nearly  as  simple  and  inartificial  as  the  mysteries,  but 
others  were  not  destitute  of  originality,  or  even  of  the 
delineation  of  character  and  manners.  There  was,  how- 
ever, no  consecutive  or  sj'stematic  development  of  either 
the  mystery  into  the  moral  or  the  moral  into  the  historical 
and  romantic  drama,  although  there  are  examples  in 
which  the  specialities  of  each  are  curiously  intermingled. 
Each  species  of  the  early  English  drama  appears  for  the 
most  part  to  have  pursued  its  own  separate  and  inde- 
pendent career. 

In  April,  1569,  the  poet's  sister,  Joan,  was  bom.  She 
was  baptized  on  the  fifteenth  of  that  month,  and,  by  a 
prevalent  fashion  which  has  created  so  much  perplexity 
in  discussions  on  longevities,  was  named  after  an  elder 
child  of  the  same  parents  who  was  born  in  1558  and  had 
died  some  time  previously  to  the  arrival  of  her  younger 
sister.  Joan  was  then  so  common  a  name  that  it  is 
hazardous  to  venture  on  a  conjecture  respecting  the  child's 
sponsor,  but  she  was  very  likely  so  called  after  her  ma- 

24 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

ternal  aunt,  Mrs.  Lambert  of  Barton-ou-the-Heath.  John 
Shakespeare's  term  of  office  as  High  Bailiff  expired  in  the 
September  of  the  same  year,  1569,  his  successor  being 
one  Robert  Salisbury,  a  substantial  yeoman  then  residing 
in  a  large  house  on  the  eastern  side  of  Cimrch  Street. 

Although  there  is  no  certain  information  on  the  subject, 
it  may  perhaps  be  assumed  that,  at  this  time,  boys  usually 
entered  the  Free  School  at  the  age  of  seven,  according 
to  the  custom  followed  at  a  later  period.  If  so,  the  poet 
commenced  his  studies  there  in  the  spring  of  the  3'ear 
1571,  and  unless  its  system  of  instruction  differed  essen- 
tially from  that  pursued  in  other  establishments  of  a 
similar  character,  his  earliest  knowledge  of  Latin  was  de- 
rived from  two  well-known  books  of  the  time,  the  Acci- 
dence and  the  Sententue  Pueriles.  From  the  first  of  these 
works  the  improvised  examination  of  IMaster  Page  in  the 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  is  so  almost  verbally  remembered, 
that  one  might  imagine  that  the  Wilham  of  the  scene  was 
a  resuscitation  of  the  poet  at  school.  Recollections  of 
the  same  book  are  to  be  traced  in  other  of  his  plays. 
The  SententuE  Pueriles  was,  in  all  probability,  the  little 
manual  by  the  aid  of  Avhich  he  first  learned  to  construe 
Latin,  for  in  one  place,  at  least,  he  all  but  literally 
translates  a  brief  passage,  and  there  are  in  his  plays 
several  adaptations  of  its  sentiments.  It  was  then  sold  for 
a  penny,  equivalent  to  about  our  present  shilhng,  and  con- 
tains a  large  collection  of  brief  sentences  collected  from 
a  variety  of  authors,  with  a  distinct  selection  of  moral 
and  religious  paragraphs,  the  latter  intended  for  the  use 
of  boys  on  Saint's  Days. 

The  best  authorities  unite  in  telling  us  that  the  poet 
imbibed  a  certain  amount  of  Latin  at  school,  but  that  his 

25 


Life  WILLIAM 

acquaintance  with  that  language  was,  throughout  his  hfe, 
of  a  very  hmited  character.  It  is  not  probable  that 
scholastic  learning  was  ever  congenial  to  his  tastes,  and  it 
should  be  recollected  that  books  in  most  parts  of  the 
country  were  then  of  very  rare  occurrence.  Lilly's  Gram- 
mar and  a  few  classical  works,  chained  to  the  desks  of  the 
Free  School,  were  probably  the  only  volumes  of  the  kind 
to  be  found  at  Stratford-on-Avon.  Exclusive  of  Bibles, 
Church  Serv'ices,  Psalters,  and  education  manuals,  there 
were  certainly  not  more  than  two  or  three  dozen  books, 
if  so  many,  in  the  whole  town.  The  copy  of  the  black- 
letter  English  history,  so  often  depicted  as  well  thumbed 
by  Shakespeare  in  his  father's  parlor,  never  existed  out 
of  the  imagination.  Fortunately  for  us,  the  youthful 
dramatist  had,  excepting  in  the  school-room,  little  oppor- 
tunity of  studying  any  but  a  grander  volume,  the  infinite 
book  of  nature,  the  pages  of  which  were  ready  to  be  un- 
folded to  him  in  the  lane  and  field,  amongst  the  copses 
of  Snitterfield,  by  the  side  of  the  river  or  that  of  his 
uncle's  hedgerows. 

Henry  Shakespeare,  the  poet's  uncle,  resided  on  a  large 
faiTu  near  Snitterfield  church.  The  house  has  long  dis- 
appeared, but  two  of  the  old  enclosures  that  he  rented, 
Burmans  and  Red  Hill,  are  still  to  be  observed  on  the 
right  of  the  highway  to  Luscombe,  with  the  ancient 
boundaries,  and  under  the  same  names,  by  which  they 
were  distinguished  in  the  days  of  Shakespeare's  early 
youth.  Nearly  every  one  of  the  boy's  connections,  as  well 
as  his  uncle  Henry,  was  a  farmer.  There  was  the  brother 
of  Agnes  Arden,  Alexander  Webbe  of  Snitterfield,  who 
died  in  1573,  appointing  "to  be  my  overseers  to  see  this 
my  last  will  and  testament  performed,  satisfied  and  ful- 

26 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

filled,  according  to  my  will,  Jolin  Shackespere  of  Stret- 
ford-upon-Aven,  John  Hill  of  Bearlcy,  and  for  thcyre 
paynes  taken  I  geve  them  xij.d.  a  pece."  Henry  Shake- 
speare was  present  at  the  execution  of  this  will,  and  there 
is  other  evidence  that  the  poet's  family  were  on  friendly 
tcnns  with  the  Hills  of  Bearley,  who  were  connections  by 
marriage  with  the  Ardens.  Then  there  were  the  Lam- 
berts of  Barton-on-the-Heath,  the  Stringers  of  Bearley, 
the  Etkyns  of  Wilmecote,  all  of  whom  were  engaged  in 
agricultural  business,  and  Agnes  Arden,  who  was  still  alive 
and  farming  at  Wilmecote. 

On  March  11,  1574:,  "Richard,  sonne  to  Mr.  Jolm 
Shakspeer,"  was  baptized  at  Stratford,  the  Christian  name 
of  the  infant  having  probably  been  adopted  in  recollec- 
tion of  his  grandfather  of  Snitterfield,  who  had  been  re- 
moved by  the  hand  of  death  some  years  previousl3^  In- 
dependently of  this  new  baby,  there  were  now  four  other 
children, — Anne,  who  was  in  her  third,  Joan  in  her  fifth, 
Gilbert  in  his  eighth,  and  the  poet  in  his  tenth  3'ear.  The 
father's  circumstances  were  not  yet  on  the  wane,  so  there  is 
every  reason  for  believing  that  the  eldest  son,  blcsset?  with, 
as  it  has  been  well  termed,  the  precious  gift  of  sisters  to  a 
loving  boy,  returned  to  a  happy  fire-side  after  he  had 
been  tormented  by  the  disciplinarian  routine  that  was  des- 
tined to  terminate  in  the  acquisition  of  "small  Latin  and 
less  Greek." 

The  defective  classical  education  of  the  poet  Is  not, 
however,  to  be  attributed  to  the  conductor  of  the  local 
seminary,  for  enough  of  Latin  was  taught  to  enable  the 
more  advanced  pupils  to  display  familiar  correspondence 
in  that  language.  It  was  really  owing  to  his  being  re- 
moved from  school  long  before  the  usual  age,  his  father 

27 


Life  WILLIAIVI 

requiring  his  assistance  in  one  of  the  branches  of  the 
Henlej  Street  business.  Rowe's  words,  pubhshed  in  1709, 
are  these, — "he  had  bred  him,  'tis  true,  for  some  time  at 
a  free-school,  where  'tis  probable  he  acquir'd  that  little 
Latin  he  was  master  of ;  but  the  narrowness  of  his  cir- 
cumstances, and  the  want  of  his  assistance  at  home,  forc'd 
his  father  to  withdraw  him  from  thence,  and  unhappily 
prevented  his  further  proficiency  in  that  language." 
John  Shakespeare's  circumstances  had  begun  to  decline 
in  the  year  1577,  and,  in  all  probability,  he  removed  the 
future  dramatist  from  school  when  the  latter  was  about 
thirteen,  allowing  Gilbert,  then  between  ten  and  eleven, 
to  continue  his  studies.  The  selection  of  the  former  for 
home-work  may  have  partially  arisen  from  his  having 
been  the  elder  and  the  stronger,  I  ut  it  also  exhibits  the 
father's  presentiment  of  those  talents  for  business  which 
distinguished  the  latter  part  of  his  son's  career. 

The  conflict  of  evidences  now  becomes  so  exceedingly 
perplexing,  that  it  is  hardly  possible  to  completely  recon- 
cile them.  All  that  can  prudently  be  said  is  that  the  in- 
clination of  the  testimonies  leans  towards  the  belief  that 
John  Shakespeare,  following  the  ordinary  usage  of  the 
tradesmen  of  the  locality  in  binding  their  children  to 
special  occupations,  eventually  apprenticed  his  eldest  son 
to  a  butcher.  That  appellation  was  sometimes  given  to 
persons  who,  without  keeping  meat-shops,  killed  cattle  and 
pigs  for  others ;  and  as  there  is  no  telling  how  many  ad- 
juncts the  worthy  glover  had  to  his  legitimate  business, 
it  is  very  possible  that  the  lad  may  have  served  his  articles 
under  his  own  father.  With  respect  to  the  unpoetical 
selection  of  a  trade  for  the  great  dramatist,  it  is  of  course 

28 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

necessary  for  the  biographer  to  draw  attention  to  the  fact 
that  he  was  no  ordinary  executioner,  but,  to  use  the  words 
of  Aubrey,  "when  he  killed  a  calf,  he  would  do  it  in  a  high 
style  and  make  a  speech."  It  may  be  doubted  if  even  this 
palliative  will  suffice  to  reconcile  the  employment  with  our 
present  ideal  of  the  gentle  Shakespeare,  but  he  was  not 
one  of  the  few  destined,  at  all  events  in  early  life,  to  be 
exempt  from  the  laws  which  so  frequently  ordain  mortals 
to  be  the  reluctant  victims  of  circumstances. 

The  tradition  reported  by  the  parish  clerk  in  1693  is 
the  only  known  evidence  of  Shakespeare  having  been  an 
apprentice,  but  his  assertion  that  the  poet  commenced  his 
practical  life  as  a  butcher  is  supported  by  the  earlier  tes- 
timony of  Aubrey.  If  the  clerk's  story  be  rejected,  wo 
must  then  rely  on  the  account  furnished  by  Betterton,  who 
informs  us,  through  Rowe,  that  John  Shakespeare  "was 
a  considerable  dealer  in  wool,"  and  that  the  great 
.  dramatist,  after  leaving  school,  was  brought  up  to  follow 
the  same  occupation,  continuing  in  the  business  until  his 
departure  from  Warwickshire.  Whichever  version  be 
thought  the  more  probable,  the  student  will  do  well,  be- 
fore arriving  at  a  decision,  to  bear  in  mind  that  many 
butchers  of  those  days  were  partially  farmers,  and  that 
those  of  Stratford-on-Avon  largely  represented  the  wealth 
and  commercial  intelligence  of  the  town.  Among  the 
latter  was  Ralph  Cawdrey,  who  had  then  twice  served  the 
office  of  High  Bailiff,  and  had  been  for  many  years  a  col- 
league of  the  poet's  father.  Nor  were  the  accessories  of 
the  trade  viewed  in  the  repulsive  light  that  some  of  them 
are  at  the  present  time.  The  refined  and  lively  Rosa- 
lind would  have  been  somewhat  astonished  if  she  had  been 

29 


Life  WILLIAM 

told  of  the  day  when  her  alkision  to  the  washing  of  a 
sheep's  heart  would  have  been  pronounced  indecorous  and 
more  thaa  unladylike. 

Although  the  information  at  present  accessible  does  not 
enable  us  to  determine  the  exact  natures  of  Shakespeare's 
occupations  from  his  fourteenth  to  his  eighteenth  year, 
that  is  to  say,  from  1577  to  1582,  there  can  be  no  hesita- 
tion in  concluding  that,  daring  that  animated  and  recep- 
tive period  of  life,  he  was  mercifully  released  from  what, 
to  a  spirit  like  his,  must  have  been  the  deleterious  monotony 
of  a  school  education.  Whether  he  passed  those  years  as 
a  butcher  or  a  wool-dealer  does  not  greatly  matter.  In 
either  capacity,  or  in  any  other  that  could  then  have  been 
found  at  Stratford,  he  was  unconsciously  acquiring  a 
more  perfect  knowledge  of  the  world  and  human  natux'e 
than  could  have  been  derived  from  a  study  of 
the  classics.  During  nearly  if  not  all  the  time  to 
which  reference  is  now  being  made,  he  had  also  the 
opportunity  of  witnessing  theatrical  performances  by  some 
of  the  leading  companies  of  the  day.  But  trouble  and 
sorrow  invaded  the  paternal  home.  In  the  autumn  of 
1578,  his  father  affected  the  then  large  mortgage  of  4iOl. 
on  the  estate  of  Asbies,  and  the  records  of  subsequent 
transactions  indicate  that  he  was  suffering  from  pecuniary 
embarrassments  in  the  two  years  immediately  following. 
In  the  midst  of  these  struggles  he  lost,  in  1579,  his 
daughter  Anne,  who  was  then  in  her  eighth  year.  It  can- 
not be  doubted  that  the  poet  acutely  felt  the  death  of  his 
little  sister,  nor  that  he  followed  her  to  the  grave  at  a 
funeral  which  was  conducted  by  the  parents  with  affection- 
ate tributes.  In  the  next  year  their  last  child  was  born. 
He  was  christened  Edmund  on  May  3,  1580,  no  doubt  re- 

30 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

ceiving  tliat  name  from  the  husband  of  his  maternal  aunt, 
Mrs.  Lambert.  It  was  this  gentleman  who  held  the  mort- 
gage on  Asbies,  but  on  John  Shakespeare  tendering  pay- 
ment to  him  in  the  following  autumn,  the  money  was  re- 
fused until  other  sums  due  the  same  creditor  were  also  re- 
paid. This  must  have  been  a  great  disappointment  to  the 
worthy  glover,  who  had  onl}^  in  the  previous  year  dis- 
posed of  his  wife's  reversionary  interests  at  Snittei-field 
for  the  exact  amount  that  he  had  borrowed  from  the  Lam- 
berts in  1578,  a  transfer  that  he  had  perhaps  arranged 
with  a  view  to  the  redemption  of  the  matrimonial  estate  at 
Wilmecote.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  it  was  at  that 
time  the  practice  in  mortgages  to  name  a  special  day  for 
the  repayment  of  a  loan,  the  security  falling  into  the  inde- 
feasible ownership  of  the  mortgagee  when  the  terms  of 
the  contract  were  not  rigidly  observed.  There  was  not 
then  the  general  equity  of  redemption  which,  at  a  later 
period,  guarded  tlie  legitimate  interests  of  the  borrower. 

The  reversion  that  was  parted  with  in  the  year  1579 
consisted  of  a  share  in  a  considerable  landed  estate  that 
had  belonged  to  the  poet's  maternal  grandfather,  a  share 
to  which  John  and  Mary  Shakespeare  would  have  become 
absolutely  entitled  upon  the  death  of  Agnes  Arden,  who 
was  described  as  "aged  and  impotent"  in  the  July  of  the 
following  year,  1580,  and  who  died  a  few  months  after- 
wards, her  burial  at  Aston  Cantlowe  having  taken  place  on 
December  29.  In  her  will,  that  of  a  substantial  lady 
farmer  of  the  period,  there  is  no  direct  mention  of  the 
Shakespeares,  but  it  is  not  unlikelj^  that  one  or  more  of 
their  sons  may  be  nicluded  in  the  bequest, — "to  everi  on 
of  my  god-children  x'lj.d.  a-peece," — the  absence  of  the 
testator's  own  christian  name  from  their  pedigree  being 

31 


Life  WILLIAM 

a  sufficient  evidence  that  her  baptismal  responsibilities  were 
not  extended  to  their  daughters.  Taking  merely  a  life- 
interest  in  a  portion  of  the  family  estates,  and  Mary  hav- 
ing received  more  than  an  equitable  interest  in  them,  she 
might  naturally  have  felt  herself  absolved  from  bestowing 
larger  gifts  upon  her  Henley  Street  connections. 

It  was  the  usual  custom  at  Stratford-on-Avon  for  ap- 
prentices to  be  bound  either  for  seven  or  ten  years,  so  that, 
if  Shakespeare  were  one  of  them,  it  was  not  likely  that 
he  was  out  of  his  articles  at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  an 
event  that  took  place  in  1582,  when  he  was  only  in  his 
nineteenth  year.  At  that  period,  before  a  license  for  wed- 
lock could  be  obtained,  it  was  necessary  to  lodge  at  the 
Consistory  Court  a  bond  entered  into  by  two  responsible 
sureties,  who  by  that  document  certified,  under  a  heavy 
penalty  in  case  of  misrepresentation,  that  there  was  no  im- 
pediment of  precontract  or  consanguinity,  the  former  of 
course  alluding  to  a  precontract  of  either  of  the  affianced 
parties  with  a  third  person. 

The  bond  given  in  anticipation  of  the  marriage  of  Wil- 
liam Shakespeare  with  Anne  Hathaway,  a  proof  in  itself 
that  there  was  no  clandestine  intention  in  the  arrange- 
ments, is  dated  November  28,  1582.  Their  first  child, 
Susanna,  was  baptized  on  Sunday,  May  26,  1583.  With 
thase  numerous  moralists  who  do  not  consider  it  necessary 
for  rigid  enquiry  to  precede  condemnation,  these  facts 
taint  the  husband  with  dishonor,  although,  even  according 
to  modem  notions,  that  very  marriage  may  have  been 
induced  on  his  part  by  a  sentiment  in  itself  the  very  es- 
sence of  honor.  If  we  assume,  however,  as  we  reasonably 
may,  that  cohabitation  had  previously  taken  place,  no 
question  of  morals  would  in  those  days  have  arisen,  or 

32 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

■  could  have  been  entertained.  The  precontract,  which  was 
usually  celebrated  two  or  three  months  before  marriage. 
was  not  only  legally  recognized,  but  it  invalidated  a  sub- 
sequent union  of  either  of  the  parties  with  any  one  else. 
There  was  a  statute,  indeed,  of  32  Kenry  VIII,  1540,  c. 
38,  s.  2,  by  which  certain  marriages  were  legalized  not- 
withstanding precontracts,  but  the  clause  was  repealed  by 
the  Act  of  2  &  3  Edward  VI,  1548,  c.  23,  s.  2,  and  the 
whole  statute  by  1  &  2  Phil,  and  Mar.,  1554,  c.  8,  s.  19, 
while  the  Act  of  I  Elizabeth,  1558,  c.  1,  s.  11,  expressly 
confirms  the  revocation  made  by  Edward  VI.  The  as- 
certained facts  respecting  Shakespeare's  marriage  clearly 
indicate  the  high  probability  of  there  having  been  a  pi'e- 
contract,  a  ceremony  which  substantially  had  the  validity 
of  the  more  formal  one,  and  the  improbability  of  that  mar- 
riage having  been  celebrated  under  mysterious  or  unusual 
circumstances.  Whether  the  early  alliance  was  a  prudent 
one  in  a  worldly  point  of  view  may  admit  of  doubt,  but 
that  the  married  pair  continued  on  affectionate  terms, 
until  they  were  separated  by  the  poet's  death,  may  be 
gathered  from  the  early  local  tradition  that  his  wife  "did 
earnestly  desire  to  be  laid  in  the  same  grave  with  him." 
The  legacy  to  her  of  the  second-best  bed  is  an  evidence 
which  does  not  in  any  way  negative  the  later  testimony. 

The  poet's  two  sureties,  Fulk  Sandells  and  John  Ricli- 
ardson,  were  inhabitants  of  the  little  hamlet  of  Shotterj', 
and  on  the  only  inscribed  seal  attached  to  the  bond  are 
the  initiak  R.  H.,  while  the  consent  of  friends  is  in  that 
document  limited  to  those  of  the  bride.  No  conclusion 
can  be  safely  drawn  from  the  last-named  clause,  it  being 
one  very  usual  in  such  instnmicnts,  but  it  may  perha})s 
be  inferred  from  the  other  circumstances  that  the  marriage 

SS 


Life  WILLIAM 

was  arranged  under  the  special  auspices  of  the  Hathaway 
family,  and  that  the  engagement   was   not   received  with 
favor  in  Henley  Street.      The  case,  however,  admits  of  an- 
other explanation.     It  may  be  that  the  nuptials  of  Shake- 
speare, like  those  of  so  many  others  of  that  time,  had  been 
privately  celebrated  some  months  before  under  the  illegal 
forms  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and  that  the  relatives  were 
now  anxious  for  the  marriage  to  be  openly  acknowledged. 
It  was  extremely  common  at  that  time,  among  the  local 
tradespeople,  for  the  sanction  of  parents  to  be  given  to 
early  marriages  in  cases  where  there  was  no  money,  and 
but  narrow  means  of  support,  on  either  side.     It  is  not, 
therefore,    likely    that    the    consent    of    John    and    Mary 
Shakespeare  to  the  poet's  marriage  was  withheld  on  such 
grounds,  nor,  with  the  exception  of  the  indications  in  the 
jcnd,   are   there    other   reasons    for   suspecting  that   they 
were  averse  to  the  union.     But  whether  they  were  so  or  not 
is  a  question  that  does  not  invalidate  the  assumption  that 
the  lovers  followed  the  all  but  universal  rule  of  consolidat- 
ing their  engagement  by  means  of  a  precontract.      This 
ceremony  was  generally  a  solemn  affair  enacted  with  the 
immediate  concurrence  of  all  the   parents,  but  it  was  at 
times   informally  conducted  separately  by  the  betrothing 
parties,  evidence  of  the  fact,   communicated   by   them  to 
independent  persons,  having  been  held,  at  least  in  War- 
wickshire, to  confer  a  sufficient  legal  validity  on  the  trans- 
action.    Thus,  in  1585,  William  Holder  and  Alice  Shaw, 
having  privately  made  a  contract,  came  voluntarily  before 
two  witnesses,  one  of  whom   was   a  person   named  Willis 
and  the  other  a  John  Maides  of  Snitterfield,  on  purpose 
to  acknowledge  that  they  were  irrevocably  pledged  to  wed- 
lock.    The   lady   evidently   considered   herself  already   as 

34 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

good  as  married,  saying  to  Holder, — "I  do  confebse  that 
I  am  jour  wief  and  have  forsaken  all  my  frendes  for  your 
sake,  and  I  hope  you  will  use  me  well ;"  and  thereupon  she 
*'gave  him  her  hand."  Then,  as  Maides  observes,  "tha 
said  Holder,  mutatis  7nutandis,  used  the  like  words  unto 
her  in  effect,  and  toke  her  by  the  hand,  and  kissed  to- 
getlier  in  the  presence  of  this  deponent  and  the  said  Willis." 
These  proceedings  are  afterwards  referred  to  in  the  same 
depositions  as  constituting  a  definite  "contract  of  mar- 
riage." On  another  occasion,  in  1588,  there  was  a  pre- 
contract meeting  at  Alcester,  the  young  lady  arriving 
there  unaccompanied  by  any  of  her  friends.  When  re- 
quested to  explain  the  reason  of  this  omission,  "she  an- 
swered that  her  leasure  wold  not  lett  her  and  that  she 
thought  she  cold  not  obtaine  her  mother's  goodwill,  but, 
quoth  she,  nevertheless  I  am  the  same  woman  that  I  was 
before."  The  future  bridegroom  was  perfectly  satisfied 
with  this  assurance,  merely  asking  her  "whether  she  was 
content  to  betake  herself  unto  him,  and  she  answered, 
offring  her  hand,  which  he  also  tooke  upon  thoffer  that 
she  was  content  by  her  trothe,  and  thereto,  said  she,  I  geve 
thee  my  faith,  and  before  these  witnesses,  that  I  am  thy 
wief;  and  then  he  likewise  answered  in  theis  wordes,  vidz., 
and  I  geve  thee  my  faith  and  troth,  and  become  thy  hus- 
band." These  instances,  to  which  several  others  could  be 
added,  prove  decisively  that  Shakespeare  could  have  en- 
tered, under  any  circumstances  whatever,  into  a  precon- 
tract with  Anne  Hathaway.  It  may  be  worth  adding  that 
espousals  of  this  kind  were,  in  the  Midland  counties, 
almost  invariably  terminated  by  the  lady's  acceptance  of  a 
bent  sixpence.  One  lover,  who  was  betrothed  in  the  same 
year  in  which  Shakespeare  was  engaged  to  Anne  Hath- 

35 


Life  WILLIAM 

away,  gave  also  a  pair  of  gloves,  two  oranges,  two  hand- 
kerchiefs and  a  girdle  of  broad  red  silk.  A  present  of 
gloves  on  such  an  occasion  was,  indeed,  nearly  as  universal 
as  that  of  a  sixpence. 

It  can  never  be  right  for  a  biographer,  when  he  is  un- 
supported by  the  least  particle  of  evidence,  to  assume  that 
the  subject  of  his  memoir  departed  unnecessarily  from  the 
ordinary  usages  of  life  and  society.  In  Shakespeare's 
matrimonial  case,  those  who  imagine  that  there  was  no 
precontract  have  to  make  another  extravagant  admission. 
They  must  ask  us  also  to  believe  that  the  lady  of  his 
choice  was  as  disreputable  as  the  flax-wench,  and  gratui- 
tously united  with  the  poet  in  a  moral  wrong  that  could 
have  been  converted,  by  the  smallest  expenditure  of  trouble, 
into  a  moral  riglit.  The  whole  theory  is  absolutely  in- 
credible. We  may  then  feel  certain  that,  in  the  summer 
of  the  year  1582,  William  Sliakespeare  and  Anne  Hath- 
away were  betrothed  either  formally  or  informally,  but, 
at  all  events,  under  conditions  that  could,  if  necessary, 
have  been  legally  ratified. 

There  are  reasons  for  believing  that  later  in  the  century 
cohabitation  between  the  precontract  and  the  marriage 
began  to  be  generally  regarded  with  much  disfavor,  but 
the  only  means  of  arriving  at  an  equitable  judgment  upon 
the  merits  of  the  present  case  lay  in  a  determination  to 
investigate  it  strictly  in  its  relation  with  practices  the 
legitimacy  of  which  was  acknowledged  in  Warwickshire 
in  the  days  of  the  poet's  youth.  If  the  antecedents  of 
Shakespeare's  union  with  Miss  Hathaway  were  regarded 
with  equanimity  by  their  own  neighbors,  relatives,  and 
friends,  upon  what  grounds  can  a  modern  critic  fairly 
impugn  the  propriety  of  their  conduct.'*     And  that  they 

3G 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

were  so  regarded  is  all  but  indisputable.  Assuming,  as 
we  have  a  right  to  assume,  that  the  poet's  mother  must 
liave  been  a  woman  of  sensitive  purity,  was  she  now  en- 
tertaining the  remotest  apprehension  that  her  son's  honor 
was  imperiled?  Assuredly  not,  for  she  had  passed  her 
youth  amid  a  society  who  believed  that  a  precontract  had 
all  the  validity  of  a  marriage,  the  former  being  really 
considered  a  more  significant  and  important  ceremony  than 
the  other.  When  her  own  father,  Robert  Arden,  settled 
part  of  an  estate  upon  his  daughter  Agnes,  on  July  17, 
1550,  he  introduces  her  as  nunc  uxor  Thome  Stringer,  ac 
nuper  uxor  Johannu  Hewyns,  and  yet  the  marriage  was 
not  solemnized  until  three  months  afterwards.  "1550,  15 
October,  was  maryed  Thomas  Stringer  unto  Agnes  Hwens, 
wyddow,"  (Bearley  register).  Let  us  hope  that,  after  the 
production  of  this  decisive  testimony,  nothing  more  will 
be  heard  of  the  insinuations  that  have  hitherto  thrown  an 
unpleasant  shadow  over  one  of  the  most  interesting  periods 
of  our  author's  career. 

The  marriage,  in  accordance  with  the  general  practice, 
no  doubt  took  place  within  two  or  three  days  after  the 
execution  of  the  bond  on  November  28,  1582,  the  "once 
asking  of  the  bans"  being  included  in  the  ceremonial  sei-v- 
ice.  The  name  of  the  parish  in  which  the  nuptials  were 
celebrated  has  not  been  ascertained,  but  it  must  have  been 
one  of  those  places  in  the  diocese  of  Worcester  the  early 
registers  of  which  have  been  lost. 

Early  marriages  are  not,  however,  at  least  with  men, 
invariably  preceded  by  a  dispersion  of  the  wild  oats ;  and 
it  appears  that  Shakespeare  had  neglected  to  complete 
that  usually  desirable  operation,  but  now  a  fortunate  omis- 
sion that  necessitated  his  removal  to  the  only  locality  in 

37 


.?    y  Z  e'"^ 


Life  WILLIAM 

whicli  it  was  probable  that  his  dramatic  genius  could  have 
arrived  at  complete  maturity.  Three  or  four  years  after 
his  union  with  Anne  Hathawa}',  he  had,  observes  Rowe, 
"by  a  misfortune  common  enough  to  young  fellows,  fallen 
into  ill  company,  and,  among  them,  some,  that  made  a 
frequent  practice  of  deer-stealing,  engaged  him  with  them 
more  than  once  in  robbing  a  park  that  belonged  to  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy  of  Charlecote,  near  Stratford ; — for  this  he 
was  prosecuted  by  that  gentleman,  as  he  thought,  some- 
what too  severely,  and,  in  order  to  revenge  that  ill-usage, 
lie  made  a  ballad  upon  him ;  and  though  this,  probably 
the  first  essay  of  his  poetry,  be  lost  yet  it  is  said  to  have 
been  so  very  bitter  that  it  redoubled  the  prosecution 
against  him  to  that  degree,  that  he  was  obliged  to  leave 
his  business  and  family  in  Warwickshire  for  some  time, 
and  shelter  himself  in  London."  If  we  accept  this  nar- 
rative, which  is  the  most  reliable  account  of  the  incident 
that  has  been  preserved,  the  date  of  the  poet's  departure 
from  his  native  town  may  be  reasonably  assigned  to  ilie 
year  1585.  He  certainly  could  not  have  left  the  neighbor- 
hood before  the  summer  of  1584,  the  baptisms  of  his 
youngest  children,  the  twin  Hamnct  and  Judith,  having 
been  registered  at  Stratford-on-Avon  on  February  2'  in 
the  following  year;  neither  could  his  retreat  have  been 
enforced  during  his  oppressor's  attendance  at  the  Par- 
liament which  sat  from  November  23,1584,  to  March  29", 
1585.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  Sir  Thomas  had  the 
charge,  early  in  the  last-named  month,  of  a  bill  "for  the 
preservation  of  grain  and  game,"  so  it  is  clear  that  the 
knight  of  Charlecote  was  a  zealous  game-preserver,  even 
if  the  introduction  of  the  proposed  measure  were  not  the 

38 


SHAKESPEARE  Lif. 

result  of  the  depredations  committed  by  the  poet  and  his 
companions. 

Another  version  of  the  narrative  has  been  recorded  by 
Archdeacon  Davies,  who  was  the  vicar  of  Sapperton,  a 
village  in  the  neighboring  county  of  Gloucester,  and  who 
died  there  in  the  year  1708.  According  to  this  authority 
the  future  great  dramatist  was  "much  given  to  all  un- 
luckiness  in  stealing  venison  and  rabbits,  particularly 
from  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  who  had  him  oft  whipped  and 
sometimes  imprisoned,  and  at  last  made  him  fly  his  native 
county  to  his  great  advancement ;  but  his  revenge  was  so 
great  that  he  is  his  Justice  Clodpate,  and  calls  him  a  great 
man,  and  that  in  allusion  to  his  name  bore  three  louses 
rampant  for  his  arms."  It  Is  evident,  therefore,  from  the 
independent  testimonies  of  Rowe  and  Davies,  that  the 
deer-stealing  history  was  accepted  in  the  poet's  native 
town  and  in  the  neighborhood  during  the  latter  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  That  it  has  a  solid  basis  of 
fact  cannot  admit  of  a  reasonable  doubt.  It  was  current 
at  a  period  in  the  history  of  Shakespearean  appreciation 
before  tales  of  the  kind  became  liable  to  intentional  falsi- 
fication, and  the  impressive  story  of  the  penniless  fugitive, 
who  afterwards  became  a  leading  inhabitant  of  Stratford 
and  the  owner  of  New  Place,  was  one  likely  to  be  handed 
down  with  passable  fidelity  to  the  grandchildren  of  his 
contemporaries.  It  is,  moreover,  one  which  exactly  har- 
monizes with  circumstances  that  materially  add  to  its 
probability, — with  the  satirical  allusions  to  the  Lucys  in 
their  immediate  relation  to  a  poaching  adventure,  and  with 
the  certainty  that  there  must  have  been  some  very  grave 
reason  to  induce  him  to  leave  his  wife  and  children  to  seek 

39 


Life  WILLIAM 

his  unaided  fortunes  in  a  distant  part  of  the  country, 
rendering  himself  at  the  same  time  hable  to  imprisonment 
(5  Eliz.  c.  4f.  s.  47)  for  violating  the  conditions  of  his 
apprenticeship.  If  there  had  been  no  such  grave  reason, 
how  should  there  have  been  the  provincial  belief  in  1693 
that  he  had  ran  "from  his  master  to  London,  and  there 
received  into  the  play-house  as  a  servitor?"  What  but 
a  strong  and  compulsory  motive  could  have  driven  him 
so  far  away  from  a  locality  to  which,  as  we  gather  from 
subsequent  events,  he  was  sensitively  attached?  The  only 
theory,  indeed,  that  would  sanction  the  unconditional  re- 
jection of  the  traditions  is  that  which  assumes  that  they 
were  designed  in  explanation  of  the  allusions  in  the  Merry 
Wh€S  of  Windsor,  but  surely,  if  that  had  been  the  case, 
there  would  have  been  a  more  explicit  reference  to  the 
accusations  of  Master  Shallow,  charges  that  are  in  the 
aggregate  of  a  more  formidable  description  than  those 
which  have  been  transmitted  by  hearsay.  "You  have  hurt 
my  keeper,  kill'd  my  dogs,  stol'n  my  deer"  (ed.  1602). 
"You  have  beaten  my  men,  kill'd  my  deer,  and  broke  open 
my  lodge"  (ed.  1623).  It  is  also  exceedingly  improbable 
that  there  should  have  been  any  one  at  Stratford-on-Avon 
at  the  time  of  Betterton's  visit  who  would  have  cared  to 
elucidate  the  justice's  implications,  and  it  would  appear, 
from  the  incorrect  quotations  which  are  given  by  Davies, 
that  even  the  archdeacon  was  somewhat  better  acquainted 
with  the  history  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  than  he  was  with  the 
comedy. 

Neither  the  best  citizens  nor  the  most  amiable  men  are 
always  those  whose  cautious  and  dispassionate  tempera- 
ments have  enabled  them  to  pass  through  the  heats  of 
youth  without  getting  into  scrapes.     Those  only,  indeed, 

40 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

who  consider  it  their  duty  to  invest  the  greatest  of 
dramatists  with  the  honors  of  canonization  will  be  dis- 
tressed to  hear  that  the  poet,  in  the  years  of  his  apprentice- 
ship to  a  cheei'less  business,  got  into  trouble  by  netting 
rabbits  and  occasionally  joining  in  the  class  of  adventures 
that  were  then  known  under  the  title  of  "unlawful 
huntings."  The  general  tradition  among  the  rustics  of 
the  neighborhood  was,  and  perhaps  still  is,  that  he  was 
wild  in  his  younger  days,  an  impression  delivered,  as  I 
have  heard  it  in  years  gone  by,  in  no  tone  or  spirit  of 
detraction ;  and  he  was  wild  in  the  least  reprehensible  of 
all  irregular  directions,  not  in  the  slums  of  Warwick,  nor 
with  roisterers  in  the  taverns  of  Stratford,  but  in  sports 
of  the  wood  and  the  field  that  may  have  been  illegally 
pursued,  but  were  nevertheless  regarded  by  the  multitude 
as  indications  of  manly  spirit  and  gallantry.  Sir  Philip 
Sydney's  May-Lady  terms  deer-stealing  a  "prettie  serv- 
ice," and  this  was  the  light  in  which  it  was  usually  viewed 
so  long  as  the  keepers  were  outwitted.  These  were  days 
when  youthful  raids  for  fruit  or  animals  were  not  only 
excusable  in  the  eyes  of  society,  but  apt  to  be  considered 
desirable  features  of  education,  and  we  accordingly  find 
a  writer  of  the  next  century,  Francis  Osborn,  born  about 
the  year  1589,  bitterly  lamenting  that,  owing  to  the  mild 
character  of  his  home-training,  he  had  lost  the  advantages 
which  others  had  derived  from  a  participation  in  such-like 
kind  of  exploits ;  for,  to  quote  his  own  words,  "not  under- 
going the  same  discipline,  I  must  needs  come  short  of  their 
experience  that  are  bred  up  in  free-schools,  who,  by  plot- 
ting to  rob  an  orchard,  &c.,  run  through  all  the  subtleties 
required  in  taking  of  a  town  ;  being  made  by  use  familiar  to 
secrecy  and  compliance  with  opportunity,  qualities  never 

41 


Life  WILLIAM 

after  to  be  attained  at  cheaper  rates  than  the  hazard  of  all ; 
whereas  these  see  the  danger  of  trusting  others  and  the  rocks 
they  fall  upon  by  a  too  obstinate  adhering  to  their  own  im- 
prudent resolutions,  and  all  this  under  no  higher  penalty 
than  a  whipping."  Then  there  was  the  curious  fact  that 
the  students  of  Oxford,  the  center  of  the  kingdom's  learn- 
ing and  intelligence,  had  been  for  many  generations  the 
most  notorious  poachers  in  all  England.  An  Act  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  under  which  disorderly  hunters  were  to 
be  banished  from  the  university,  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  very  effective,  for  their  serious  depredations  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII,  positively  led,  as  recorded  by  Leland, 
to  the  disparking  of  Radley,  near  Abingdon,  a  park  that 
was  about  four  miles  distant  from  the  scholastic  city.  The 
same  lawless  spirit  prevailed  among  the  younger  collegians 
for  many  years.  Dr.  Forman  relates  how  two  students  in 
1573, — one  of  them  John  Thornborough,  then  aged 
twenty-one,  afterwards  Dean  of  York  and  Bishop  of  Wor- 
cester,— "never  studied  nor  gave  themselves  to  their  books, 
but  to  go  to  schools  of  defence,  to  the  dancing-schools, 
to  steal  deer  and  conies,  and  to  hunt  the  hare,  and  to  woo- 
ing of  wenches."  This  was  pretty  well,  and  yet  we  are 
told,  on  the  excellent  authority  of  Anthony  Wood,  that 
Thornborough  "was  a  person  well-fumish'd  with  learning, 
wisdom,  courage,  and  other  as  well  episcopal  as  temporal 
accomplishments  beseeming  a  gentleman,  a  dean,  and  a 
bishop" ;  so  it  is  clear  that  his  attachment  to  the  recreation 
of  game-stealing  at  Shakespeare's  poaching-age  was  not 
in  any  way  detrimental  to  his  subsequent  reputation.  He 
would,  indeed,  have  suffered  far  more  in  the  estimation  of 
his  contemporaries  if  he  had  been  the  Oxford  freshman 
who,  as  recorded  in  the  old  jest-books,  joining  his  fellow- 

4£ 


SHAKESPEARE  '  Life 

students  in  one  of  their  favorite  clandestine  expeditions 
upon  the  understanding  that  he  was  to  maintain  a  rigid 
silence,  vexatiously  frightened  away  a  choice  herd  of  rab- 
bits by  exclaiming,  ^'Ecce  cuniculi  multi" ;  thus  excusing 
himself  when  reproved  for  his  folly, — who  in  the  world, 
said  he,  would  have  thought  that  conies  could  have  under- 
stood Latin? 

But  although  it  will  be  gathered  from  these  evidences 
that  amateur  poaching  was  not  always  visited  in  those 
days  with  a  distinct  loss  of  character,  it  must  not  be  in- 
ferred that  its  votaries,  when  detected,  did  not  sometimes 
get  into  trouble  and  a  certain  amount  of  attendant  dis' 
grace.  Much  would  depend  upon  the  extent  and  nature 
of  the  depredations,  and  no  little  of  course  on  the  special 
tastes  and  pursuits  of  the  owners.  The  landed  gentry 
had  suffered  so  much  inconvenience  from  the  practice  that 
many  of  them  had  long  been  anxious  for  the  establish- 
ment of  stricter  game-laws.  Strenuous  efforts  had  been 
made  to  render  even  rabbit-taking  a  felony,  and  it  is  not 
probable  that  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  an  enthusiastic  sportsman 
and  an  advocate  for  game-preservation,  could  have  re- 
garded the  doings  of  Shakespeare  and  his  companions  with 
equanimity.  It  was  natural  that  he  should  do  his  best  to 
protect  his  covers  from  spoliation,  and  it  is  easy  to  believe 
that  there  may  have  been  a  display  of  arbitrary  and  undue 
severity  in  the  process.  There  could  have  been  no  one 
among  the  poachers  who  would  have  been  likely  to  have 
offered  a  successful  resistance,  or  who  would  have  dared 
to  have  appealed  to  a  superior  court  in  respect  to  a  mat- 
ter in  which  all  of  them  were  incipiently  in  the  wrong ;  and 
it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  future  poet  was  then 
no  more  eitlier  to  Sir  Thomas  or  to  the  world  than  Peter 
3  43 


Life  WILLIAM 

Turf  or  Henry  Pimpernell.     They  might  have  been  in- 
dicted under  an  Act  of  the  thirteenth  of  Richard  11,  c.  13, 
whicii  provided  that  "no  manner  of  laj^man  which  hath  not 
lands  or  tenements  to  the  value  of  forty  shillings  by  year 
shall  have  or  keep  any  greyhound,  hound,  nor  other  dog  to 
hunt ;  nor  shall  they  use  ferrets,  hays,  nets,  hare-pipes,  nor 
cords  nor  other  engines  for  to  take  or  destroy  deer,  hares, 
nor  conies,  nor  other  gentlemen's  game,  upon  pain  of  one 
year's  imprisonment;"  but  the  county  records  of  the  time 
not  being  extant,  it  is  now   impossible  to   ascertain  the 
coui-se  of  any  proceedings  that  may  have  been  taken  in  the 
matter.     And   even   if  the   Session   Rolls,  had  been   pre- 
served, it  is  not  likely  that  all  the  particulars  of  the  case 
would  have  been  revealed,  for  in  all  probability  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy  frequently  took  it  upon  himself  to  exercise  a  sum- 
mary jurisdiction  in  regard  to  minor  offenses.     Such  a 
method  of  settlement  may  have  been  on  occasion  convenient 
to  both  parties  if,  for  example,  he  had  sent  delinquents 
to  jail  on  his  o\^ti  responsibility  for  two  or  three  months 
when  a  legal  conviction  would  have  secured  their  imprison- 
ment for  twelve.     It  must  be  remembered  that  the  rural 
magistrates  of  those  days  assumed  very  large  discretionary 
powers,  their  "luxuriant  authorit}',"  as  it  was  termed  by 
an  Elizabethan  legislator,  having  been  a  frequent  subject 
of  complaint.     That  the  magistrates  in  the  vicinity   of 
Stratford-on-Avon  were  accustomed  to  exercise  a  despotic 
sway  over  the  poorer  inhabitants  may  be  gathered  from 
the  fact  that  at  a  somewhat  later  period  William  Combe, 
the  squire  of  Welcombe,  sent  a  person  of  the  name  of  Hic- 
cox  to  Warwick  jail,  and  refused  bail,  merely  because  he 
"did  not  behave  himself  with  such  respect  in  his  presence 
it  geemeth  he  looked  for."     What  would  he  not  have  done 

44 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

if  he  had  first  caught  his  disrespectful  visitor  marching  off 
with  his  rabbits  and  deer,  and  then,  with  unprecedented 
temerity,  electrifying  the  neighborhood  by  the  circulation 
of  a  poetical  lampoon  reflecting  upon  the  intelligence  and 
judgment  of  His  Worship?  Now  Shakespeare,  in  his 
poaching  days,  the  penniless  son  of  an  impecunious  father, 
and  without  friends  of  appreciable  influence,  would  as- 
suredly have  fared  no  better  on  such  occasions  than  poor 
Hiccox,  unless  he  had  been,  as  he  obviously  was  not,  high 
in  the  favor  of  Davy,  the  servingman ;  and  the  most  ra- 
tional mode  of  accounting  for  and  excusing  his  long- 
sustained  resentment  is  to  recognize  a  substantial  ground- 
work of  facts  in  the  early  traditions.  They  are  in  unison 
with  possibilities  that  furnish  an  intelligible  explanation 
of  the  known  circumstances,  and  all  becomes  clear  if  it  be 
assumed  that  a  persistive,  harsh,  and  injudicial  treatment 
elicited  the  obnoxious  ballad.  Its  author  could  have  been 
severely  punished  under  the  common  law  for  its  exhibition, 
and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  it  was  a  contemplated 
movement  in  reference  to  the  libel,  in  addition,  perhaps, 
to  some  other  indictment,  that  occasioned  his  flight  to 
the  metropolis. 

The  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  who  received  the  honor  of  knight- 
hood in  1565,  and  had  thus  accidentally  diverted  the  course 
of  what  might  otherwise  have  been  an  unnoted  life,  was  the 
head  of  one  of  the  most  opulent  and  influential  families 
in  the  county  of  Warwick.  Owning  estates  in  various 
parts  of  the  country,  including,  within  a  few  miles  of 
Stratford-on-Avon,  the  manors  of  Sherbourn,  Hampton 
Lucy  and  Charlecote,  they  had  been  settled  at  the  last- 
named  demain  for  many  generations.  Sir  Thomas  was 
bom  in  1532,  and  was  therefore  about  fifty-three  years 
Shk-l-3  45 


Life  WILLIAM 

of  age  at  the  time  of  the  poet's  sprightly  adventures.  He 
married  in  early  life  Joyce  Acton,  a  rich  heiress,  through 
whom  he  became  possessed  of  Sutton  Park,  near  Tenbury, 
then  and  for  long  afterwards  one  of  the  most  important 
deer-enclosures  in  Worcestershire,  where  he  was  high  sheriff 
in  1586.  He  was  elected  to  the  Parliaments  of  1571  and 
1584,  but  his  absenteeisms  from  Warwickshire  were  excep- 
tional, and  there  he  held  a  social  position  little  inferior 
to  that  of  the  higher  nobility.  His  only  son  was  knighted 
in  1593,  and  thus  it  curiously  happened  that,  from  that 
year  until  his  death  in  1600,  there  were  two  Sir  Thomas 
Lucys  of  Charlecote,  the  one  known  as  the  younger  and 
tlie  other  as  the  elder.  The  ancestral  manor  house,  which 
the  latter  rebuilt  in  the  first  of  Elizabeth,  1558  and  1559, 
was  arranged,  out  of  compliment  to  that  sovereign,  in  the 
form  of  the  capital  letter  E,  and  it  remains  to  this  day 
the  "goodly  dwelling  and  a  rich,"  a  visible  monument  of 
his  wealth  and  residential  dignity.  It  is  situated  on  the 
eastern  bank  of  the  Avon,  upon  ground  of  a  slightly  un- 
dulating character,  about  four  miles  from  Stratford 
through  the  bye-paths  that  the  trespassers  would  most 
likely  have  followed.  Although  the  whole  edifice  has  been 
seriously  modernized,  the  back  especially  having  been 
nearly  transformed,  the  front-exterior  still  retains  the  gen- 
eral characteristics  of  the  original  structure ;  but  by  far 
the  most  genuine  and  interesting  object  is  the  ancient  gate- 
house, which  stands  in  advance  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  mansion,  and  which,  with  its  turrets  and  elegant  oriel 
window,  is  essentially  in  the  state  in  which  it  would  have 
been  recognized  by  the  now  celebrated  poachers  of  1585. 
At  the  period  of  Shakespeare's  arrival  in  London,  any 
reputable  kind  of  employment  was  obtained  with  consider- 

46 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

able  difficulty.  There  is  an  evidence  of  this  in  the  history 
of  the  early  life  of  John  Sadler,  a  native  of  Stratford-on- 
Avon  and  one  of  the  poet's  contemporaries,  who  tried  his 
fortunes  in  the  metropolis  under  similar  though  less  dis- 
couraging circumstances.  This  youth,  upon  quitting 
Stratford,  "join'd  himself  to  the  carrier,  and  came  to 
London,  where  he  had  never  been  before,  and  sold  his 
horse  in  Smithfield;  and,  having  no  acquaintance  in  Lon- 
don to  recommend  him  or  assist  him,  he  went  from  street 
to  street,  and  house  to  house,  asking  if  they  wanted  an 
apprentice,  and  though  he  met  with  many  discouraging 
scorns  and  a  thousand  denials,  he  went  on  till  he  light  on 
Mr.  Brokesbank,  a  grocer  in  Bucklersbury,  who,  though 
he  long  denied  him  for  want  of  sureties  for  his  fidelity, 
and  because  the  money  he  had  (but  ten  pounds)  was  so 
disproportionate  to  what  he  used  to  receive  with  appren- 
tices, yet,  upon  his  discreet  account  he  gave  of  himself 
and  the  motives  which  put  him  upon  that  course,  and 
promise  to  compensate  with  dihgent  and  faithfull  service 
whatever  else  was .  short  of  his  expectation,  he  ventured  to 
receive  him  upon  trial,  in  which  he  so  well  approved  him- 
self that  he  accepted  him  into  his  service,  to  which  he 
bound  him  for  eight  years."  It  is  to  be  gathered,  from 
the  account  given  by  Rowe,  that  Shakespeare,  a  fugitive, 
leaving  his  native  town  unexpectedly,  must  have  reached 
London  more  unfavorably  circumstanced  than  Sadler,  al- 
though the  latter  experienced  so  much  trouble  in  finding 
occupation.  At  all  events,  there  would  have  been  greater 
difficulty  in  the  poet's  case  in  accounting  satisfactorily 
to  employers  for  his  sudden  departure  from  home.  That 
he  was  also  nearly,  if  not  quite,  moneyless,  is  to  be  inferred 
from  tradition,  the  latter  supported  by  tlie  ascertained 

47 


Life  WILLIAM 

fact  of  the  adverse  circumstances  of  his  father  at  the 
time  rendering  it  impossible  for  him  to  have  received  ef- 
fectual assistance  from  his  parents ;  nor  is  there  reason 
for  believing  that  he  was  likely  to  have  obtained  substan- 
tial aid  from  the  relatives  of  his  wife.  Johnson  no  doubt 
accurately  reported  the  tradition  of  his  day,  when,  in  1765, 
he  stated  that  Shakespeare  "came  to  London  a  needy  ad- 
venturer, and  lived  for  a  time  by  very  mean  employments." 
To  the  same  effect  is  the  earlier  testimony  given  by  the 
author  of  Ratseis  Ghost,  1605,  where  the  strolling  player, 
in  a  passage  reasonably  believed  to  refer  to  the  great 
dramatist,  observes  in  reference  to  actors,  "I  have  heard, 
indeede,  of  some  that  have  gone  to  London  very  meanly 
and  have  come  in  time  to  be  exceedingly  wealthy."  The 
author  of  the  last-named  tract  was  evidently  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  theatrical  gossip  of  his  day,  so  that  his 
nearly  contemporary  evidence  on  the  subject  may  be  fairly 
accepted  as  a  truthful  record  of  the  current  belief. 

It  has  been  repeatedly  observed  that  the  visits  of  the- 
atrical companies  to  the  poet's  native  town  suffice  to  ex- 
plain the  history  of  his  connection  with  the  stage,  but  it 
is  difficult  to  understand  how  this  could  have  been  the  case. 
There  is  no  good  evidence  that  a  single  one  of  the  actors 
belonged  to  his  neighborhood,  and  even  if  he  had  casually 
made  the  acquaintance  of  some  of  the  itinerants,  it  is  ex- 
tremely unlikely  that  any  extent  of  such  intimacy  would 
have  secured  the  admission  of  an  inexperienced  person 
into  their  ranks.  The  histrionic  art  is  not  learned  in  a 
day,  and  it  was  altogether  unusual  with  the  sharers  to 
receive  into  the  company  men  who  had  not  had  the  advan- 
tage of  a  very  early  training  in  the  profession.  It  might, 
therefore,  have  been  reasonably  inferred,  even  in  the  ab- 

48 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

sence  of  tradition,  that  at  this  time  Shakespeare  could  only 
have  obtained  employment  at  the  theater  in  a  very  subordi- 
nate capacity,  nor  can  it  be  safely  assumed  that  there 
would  have  been  an  opening  for  liim  of  any  kind.  The 
quotations  above  given  seem  to  indicate  that  his  earlier 
occupation  was  something  of  a  still  lower  character.  A 
traditional  anecdote  was  current  about  the  middle  of  the 
last  century,  according  to  which  it  would  appear  that 
the  great  dramatist,  if  connected  in  any  sort  of  manner 
with  the  theater  immediately  upon  his  arrival  in  London, 
could  only  have  been  engaged  in  a  servile  capacity,  and 
that  there  was,  in  the  career  of  the  great  poet,  an  interval 
which  some  may  consider  one  of  degradation,  to  be  re- 
garded with  either  incredulity  or  sorrow.  Others  may, 
with  more  discernment  and  without  reluctance,  receive  the 
story  as  a  testimony  to  his  practical  wisdom  in  accepting 
any  kind  of  honest  occupation  in  preference  to  starvation 
or  mendicancy,  and  cheerfully  making  the  best  of  the  cir- 
cumstances by  which  he  was  surrounded.  The  tale  is  re- 
lated by  several  writers,  but  perhaps  the  best  version  is 
the  one  recorded  by  Dr.  Johnson,  in  1765,  in  the  follow- 
ing terms, — "in  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  coaches  being  yet 
uncommon  and  hired  coaches  not  at  all  in  use,  those  who 
were  too  proud,  too  tender  or  too  idle  to  walk,  went  on 
horseback  to  any  distant  business  or  diversion; — many 
came  on  horseback  to  the  play,  and  when  Shakespeare  fled 
to  London  from  the  terror  of  a  criminal  prosecution,  his 
first  expedient  was  to  wait  at  the  door  of  the  play-house, 
and  hold  the  horses  of  those  tliat  had  no  servants  that  they 
might  be  ready  again  after  the  performance; — in  this  office 
he  became  so  conspicuous  for  his  care  and  readiness,  that 
in  &  short  time  every  man  as  he  alighted  called  for  WiD 

49 


Life  WILLIAM 

Shakespeare,  and  scarcely  any  other  waiter  was  trusted 
with  a  horse  while  Will  Shakespeare  could  be  had ; — this 
was  the  first  dawn  of  better  fortune; — Shakespeare,  find- 
ing more  horses  put  into  his  hand  than  he  could  hold,  hired 
boys  to  wait  under  his  inspection,  who,  when  Will  Shake- 
speare was  summoned,  were  immediately  to  present  them- 
selves, 'I  am  Shakespeare's  boy,  sir;' — in  time  Shakespeare 
found  higher  employment,  but  as  long  as  the  practice  of 
riding  to  the  play-house  continued  the  waiters  that  held 
the  horses  retained  the  appellation  of  Shakespeare's  Boys." 
Dr.  Johnson  received  this  anecdote  from  Pope,  to  whom 
it  had  been  communicated  by  Rowe ;  and  it  appears  to 
have  reached  the  last-named  writer  through  Betterton  and 
Davenant. 

It  has  been  and  is  the  fashion  with  most  biographers 
to  discredit  the  horse  tradition  entirely,  but  that  it  was 
originally  related  by  Sir  William  Davenant,  and  belongs 
in  some  form  to  the  earlier  half  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, cannot  reasonably  be  doubted.  The  circumstance 
of  the  anecdote  being  founded  upon  the  practice  of  gen- 
tlemen riding  to  the  theaters,  a  custom  obsolete  after  the 
Restoration,  is  sufficient  to  establish  the  antiquity  of  the 
story.  In  a  little  volume  of  epigrams  by  Sir  John  Davis, 
printed  at  Middleborough  in  or  about  the  year  1599,  a 
man  of  inferior  position  is  ridiculed  for  being  constantly 
on  horseback,  imitating  in  that  respect  persons  of  higher 
rank,  riding  even  "into  the  fieldes  playes  to  behold." 
Most  of  these  horsemen  were  probably  accustomed  to  a 
somewhat  lavish  expenditure,  and  it  may  very  well  be  as- 
sumed that  Shakespeare  not  unfrequently  received  more 
than  the  ordinary  fee  of  a  tester  for  his  services.  There 
is,  at  all  events,  no  valid  reason  for  enrolling  the  tradition 

50 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

among  the  absolute  fictions  that  have  been  circulated  re- 
specting the  poet.  Several  writers  have  taken  that  course 
mainly  on  the  ground  that,  although  it  was  known  to  Rowe, 
he  does  not  allude  to  it  in  his  Life  of  Shakespeare,  1709 ; 
but  there  is  no  improbability  in  the  supposition  that  the 
story  was  not  related  to  him  until  after  the  publication  of 
that  work,  the  second  edition  of  which  in  1714  is  a  mere 
reprint  of  the  first.  Other  reasons  for  the  omission  may 
be  suggested,  but  even  if  it  be  conceded  that  the  anecdote 
was  rejected  as  suspicious  and  improbable,  that  circum- 
stance alone  cannot  be  decisive  against  the  opinion  that 
there  may  be  glimmerings  of  truth  in  it.  This  is,  indeed, 
all  that  is  contended  for.  Few  would  be  disposed  to  ac- 
cept the  story  literally  as  related  by  Johnson,  but  when  it 
is  considered  that  the  tradition  must  be  a  very  early  one, 
that  its  genealogy  is  respectable,  and  that  it  harmonizes 
with  the  general  old  belief  of  the  great  poet  having,  when 
first  in  London,  subsisted  by  "very  mean  employments," 
little  doubt  can  fairly  be  entertained  that  it  has  at  least  in 
some  way  or  other  a  foundation  in  real  occurrences.  It 
should  also  be  remembered  that  horse-stealing  was  one 
of  the  very  commonest  oifenses  of  the  period,  and  one 
which  was  probably  stimulated  by  the  facility  with  which 
delinquents  of  that  class  obtained  pardons.  The  safe 
custody  of  a  horse  was  a  matter  of  serious  import,  and  a 
person  who  had  satisfactorily  fulfilled  such  a  tnist  would 
not  be  lightly  estimated. 

It  is  important  to  observe  that  all  the  early  traditions, 
to  which  any  value  can  be  attached,  concur  in  the  belief 
that  Shakespeare  did  not  leave  his  native  town  with  histri- 
onic intention.  Even  in  the  absence  of  those  evidences, 
although  it  might  not  necessarily,  still  it  might,  and  most 

51 


Life  WILLIAM 

likely  would,  be  a  fallacy  to  assume  that  his  dramatic 
tastes  impelled  him  to  '/  ^  jertake  an  arduous  and  premedi- 
tated journey  to  encounter  the  risk  of  an  engagement 
at  a  metropolitan  theater,  however  powerfully  they  may 
have  influenced  his  choice  of  a  profession  after  he  had 
once  arrived  in  London.  For,  residing  throughout  his 
youth  in  what  may  fairly  be  considered  a  theatrical  neigh- 
borhood, with  continual  facilities  for  the  cultivation  of 
those  tastes,  if  he  had  yielded  in  his  boyish  days  to  an 
impulsive  fascination  for  the  stage,  it  is  most  likely  that 
he  would  in  some  way  have  joined  the  profession  while  its 
doors  were  readily  accessible  through  one  of  the  numerous 
itinerant  companies,  and  before,  not  after,  such  inchna- 
tions  must  have  been  in  some  measure  restrained  by  the 
local  domestic  ties  that  resulted  from  his  marriage.  If  he 
had  quitted  Stratford-on-Avon  in  his  early  youth,  there 
would  be  no  difficulty  in  understanding  that  he  became 
one  of  the  elder  player's  boys  or  apprentices,  but  it  is 
extremely  unlikely  that,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  he  would 
have  voluntarily  left  a  wife  and  three  children  in  Warwick- 
shire for  the  sake  of  obtaining  a  miserable  position  on  the 
London  boards. 

It  is  not,  therefore,  requisite  to  assume  that  Shakespeare 
rushed  in  the  first  instance  to  the  theater  or  its  neighbor- 
hood in  search  of  employment,  and  a  plausible  explanation 
can  be  given  of  the  circumstances  which  led  him  to  the 
occupation  mentioned  in  the  Davenant  anecdote.  It  ap- 
pears that  James  Burbage,  the  owner  of  the  theater,  rented 
premises  close  by  Smithfield  in  which  he  "usually  kept 
horses  at  liverye  for  sundry  persons";  his  assistant,  or 
rather  manager,  of  the  stable  being  "a  northeme  man  usu- 
ally called  by  the  name  of  Robyn,"  possibly  the  same  indi- 

52 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

vidual  whose  life  was  afterwards  sacrificed  by  the  unfortu- 
nate rise  in  the  price  of  oats.  If  the  course  adopted  by 
Sadler  on  his  arrival  in  London  was,  as  is  most  likely,  the 
one  also  taken  by  the  poet,  the  latter  would  at  once  have 
proceeded  to  Smithficld  to  obtain  the  best  price  for  the 
horse  which  cari'ied  him  to  the  metropolis,  the  further 
retention  of  the  animal  being  no  doubt  beyond  his  means. 
He  might  readily  upon  this  occasion  have  become  ac- 
quainted w  ith  James  Burbage  at  a  time  when  he  was  desir- 
ous of  obtaining  any  kind  of  situation  that  presented 
itself,  the  tradition  leading  to  the  inference  that  he  was 
engaged  by  the  latter  to  act  in  some  equestrian  capacity. 
If  so,  one  of  his  duties  would  have  been  the  care,  during 
the  performances,  of  the  horses  of  those  of  Burbage's 
Smithfield  customers  who  visited  the  theater.  This  enter- 
prising manager  was  also  the  landlord  of  a  tavern  in  Shore- 
ditch,  where  it  is  possible  that  his  own  horses  may  have 
been  kept.  He  must,  at  all  events,  have  been  just  the  kind 
of  person  to  be  ready  to  take  an  active  and  intelligent 
rustic  into  his  service,  without  being  too  inquisitive  re- 
specting the  history  of  the  young  man's  antecedents. 

The  transition  from  the  stable  and  the  fields  to  the  inte- 
rior of  the  theater  may  not  have  been  long  deferred,  but 
all  the  evidences  unite  in  affirming  that  Shakespeare  entered 
the  latter  in  a  very  humble  capacity.  The  best  authority 
on  this  point  is  one  William  Castle,  who  was  the  parish- 
clerk  of  Stratford-on-Avon  during  nearly  all  the  latter 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  used  to  tell  visitors 
that  the  poet  "was  received  into  the  playhouse  as  a  servi- 
ture,"  in  other  words,  an  attendant  on  the  perfonnei-s. 
A  later  account  is  somewhat  more  explicit.  We  are  in- 
formed by  Malone,  writing  in  1780,  that  there  was  "a  stage 

53 


Life  WILLIAM 

tradition  that  his  first  office  in  the  theater  was  that  of 
prompter's  attendant,  whose  employment  it  is  to  give 
the  performers  notice  to  be  ready  to  enter  as  often  as  the 
business  of  the  play  requires  their  appearance  on  the 
stage" ;  nor  can  the  future  eminence  of  Shakespeare  be 
considered  to  be  opposed  to  the  reception  of  the  tradition. 
"I  have  known  men  within  my  remembrance,"  observes 
Downes,  in  1710,  "arrive  to  the  highest  dignities  of  the 
theater,  who  made  their  entrance  in  the  quality  of  mutes, 
joint-stools,  flower-pots,  and  tapestry  hangings."  The 
office  of  prompter's  attendant  was  at  least  as  respectable  as 
any  of  the  occupations  which  are  here  enumerated. 

No  one  has  recorded  the  name  of  the  first  theater  with 
which  Shakespeare  was  connected,  but  if,  as  is  almost 
certain,  he  came  to  London  in  or  soon  after  the  year  1585, 
there  were  at  the  time  of  his  arrival  only  two  in  the  me- 
tropolis, both  of  them  on  the  north  of  the  Thames.  The 
earliest  legitimate  theater  on  the  south  was  the  Rose,  the 
erection  of  which  was  contemplated  in  the  year  1587,  but 
it  would  seem  from  Henslowe's  Diary  that  the  building 
was  not  opened  till  early  in  1592.  The  circus  at  Paris 
Garden,  though  perhaps  occasionally  used  for  dramatic 
performances,  was  not  a  regular  theater.  Admitting,  how- 
ever, the  possibility  that  companies  of  players  could  have 
hired  the  latter  establishment,  there  is  good  reason  for 
concluding  that  Southwark  was  not  the  locality  alluded  to 
in  the  Davenant  tradition.  The  usual  mode  of  transit, 
for  those  Londoners  who  desired  to  attend  theatrical  per- 
formances in  Southwark,  was  certainly  by  water.  The 
boatmen  of  the  Thames  were  perpetually  asserting  at  a 
somewhat  later  period  that  their  living  depended  on  the 
continuance  of  the  Southwark,  and  the  suppression  of  the 

54 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

London,  theaters.  Some  few  of  the  courtly  members  of 
the  audience,  perhaps  for  the  mere  sake  of  appearances, 
might  occasionally  have  arrived  at  their  destination  on 
horseback,  having  taken  what  would  be  to  most  of  them 
the  circuitous  route  over  London  Bridge;  but  the  large 
majority  would  select  the  more  convenient  passage  by 
boat.  The  Southwark  audiences  mainly  consisted  of  Lon- 
doners, for  in  the  then  sparsely  inhabited  condition  of 
Kent  and  Suri'ey  very  few  could  have  arrived  from  those 
counties.  The  number  of  riders  to  the  Bankside  theaters 
must,  therefore,  always  have  been  very  limited,  too  much 
so  for  the  remunerative  employment  of  horse-holders,  whose 
services  would  be  required  merely  in  regard  to  the  still 
fewer  persons  who  were  unattended  by  their  lackeys.  The 
only  theaters  upon  the  other  side  of  the  Thames,  when  the 
poet  arrived  in  London,  were  the  Theater  and  the  Curtain, 
for,  notwithstanding  some  apparent  testimonies  to  the  con- 
trary, the  Blackfriars  Theater,  as  will  be  afterwards  seen, 
was  not  then  in  existence.  It  was  to  the  Theater  or  to  the 
Curtain  that  the  satirist  alluded  when  he  speaks  of  the  fash- 
ionable youth  riding  "into  the  fieldes  playes  to  behold." 
Both  these  theaters  were  situated  in  the  parish  of  Shore- 
ditch,  in  the  fields  of  the  Liberty  of  Halliwell,  in  which 
locahty,  if  the  Davenant  tradition  is  in  the  slightest  degree 
to  be  trusted,  Shakespeare  must  have  commenced  his  metro- 
poHtan  life.  This  new  career,  however,  was  initiated  not 
absolutely  in  London,  but  in  a  thinly  populated  outskirt 
about  half  a  mile  from  the  city  walls,  a  locality  possessing 
outwardly  the  appearance  of  a  country  village,  but  in- 
wardly sustaining  much  of  the  bustle  and  all  the  vices  of 
the  town.  These  latter  inconveniences  could  easily  be 
avoided,  for  there  were  in  the  neighboring  meadows  ample 

55 


Life  WILLIAM 

opportunities  for  quiet  meditation  or  scientific  enquiry. 
Here  it  was  that  Gerard,  the  celebrated  botanist,  stum- 
bled a  few  years  afterwards  upon  a  new  kind  of  crow-foot 
which  he  describes  as  being  similar  to  the  ordinary  plant, 
"saving  that  his  leaves  are  fatter,  thicker,  and  greener, 
and  his  small  twiggie  stalkes  stand  upright,  otherwise  it  is 
like;  of  which  kinde  it  chanced  that,  walking  in  the  fielde 
next  unto  the  Theater  by  London,  in  company  of  a  wor- 
shipfull  marchant  named  master  Nicholas  Lete,  I  founde 
one  of  this  kinde  there  with  double  flowers,  which  before 
that  time  I  had  not  seene,"(The  Herball,  1597,  p.  804). 
Thus  Shakespeare's  observation  of  the  wild  flowers  was  not 
Decessarily  limited,  as  has  been  supposed,  to  his  provincial 
experiences,  two  of  the  principal  theaters  with  which  he 
was  connected  having  been  situated  in  a  rural  suburb,  and 
green  fields  being  throughout  his  life  witliin  an  easy  walk 
from  any  part  of  London. 

Nothing  has  been  discovered  respecting  the  history  of 
Shakespeare's  early  theatrical  life,  but  there  is  an  inter- 
esting evidence  that  no  estrangement  between  his  parents 
and  himself  had  followed  the  circumstances  that  led  him 
to  the  metropolis,  a  fact  which  is  established  by  his  con- 
currence with  them  in  an  endeavor  that  they  were 
making  in  1587  to  obtain  favorable  terms  for  a  proposed 
relinquishment  of  Asbies.  Nine  years  previously  they  had 
borrowed  the  sum  of  £40,  on  the  security  of  that  estate, 
from  their  connection,  Edmund  Lambert  of  Barton-on-the- 
Heath.  The  loan  remaining  unpaid,  and  the  mortgagee 
dying  in  April,  1587,  his  son  and  heir,  John,  threatened 
shortly  after  that  event  with  the  institution  of  a  law-suit 
for  the  recovery  of  the  property,  was  naturally  desirous  of 
having  the  matter  settled,  and  It  was  arranged  in  the  folr 

56 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

lowing  September  that  Lambert  should,  on  canceling  the 
mortgage  and  paying  also  the  sum  of  £20,  receive  from 
the  Shakespeares  an  absolute  title  to  the  estate,  or,  to 
speak  more  accurately,  the  best  title  which  it  was  in  their 
power  to  grant.  Having  obtained  the  assent  of  William, 
who  was  his  mother's  heir-apparent,  they  were  enabled  to 
offer  all  but  a  perfect  security ;  but  it  appears,  from  the 
records  of  a  subsequent  litigation,  that  the  intended  com- 
promise was  abandoned. 

It  clearly  appears,  from  the  account  given  by  Rowe, 
that  Shakespeare  returned  to  his  native  town   after  the 
dangers  from  the  Lucy  prosecution  had  subsided.     The 
same    writer    informs    us    that    the    visit    occurred    subse- 
quently to  his  junction  with  one  of  the  theatrical  com- 
panies.    The  exact  dates  of  these  events  are  unknown,  but 
it  is  not  likely  that  he  would  have  ventured  into  Sir  Thom- 
as's neighborhood  for  a  considerable  time  after  his  esca- 
pade.    Country  justices  wielded  in  those  days  tremendous 
power  in  adjudication  on  minor  offenses.     There  were  na 
newspapers  to  carry  the  intelligence  of  provincial  tyranny 
to  the  ears  of  a  sensitive  public  opinion,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  a  youth   in   Shakespeare's   position,   who   had 
dared  to  lampoon  the  most  influential  magistrate  of  the 
locality,  would  have  been  for  some  time  in  a  critical  posi- 
tion.    However  greatly  he  may  have  desired  to  rejoin  his 
family,  it  is,  therefore,  not  probable  that  the  poet  would 
be   found   again    at    Stratford-on-Avon   before   the   year 
1587,  and  then  we  have,  in  the  Lambert  episode,  a  sub- 
stantial reason  for  believing  that  he  had  at  that  time  a 
conference  with  bis  parents  on  the  subject  of  the  Asbies 
mortgage.     The  sum  of  £20,  equivalent  to  at  least  £2*40 
now-a-days,  to  be  paid  in  cash  by  Lambert,  wouM  have 

57 


Life  WILLIAM 

been  an  element  of  serious  importance  to  them  all  in  their 
then  financial  circumstances.  It  must  have  been  a  sub- 
ject for  anxious  deliberation,  one  that  could  hardly  have 
been  arranged  without  a  personal  interview,  and,  in  the 
presence  of  Rowe's  testimony,  it  may  fairly  be  assumed  that 
the  meeting  took  place  at  Stratford,  not  in  London. 

In  the  same  year,  1587,  an  unusual  number  of  companies 
of  actors  visited  Stratford-on-Avon,  including  the  Queen's 
Players  and  those  of  Lords  Essex,  Leicester,  and  Staf- 
ford.    This  circumstance  has  given  rise  to  a  variety  of 
speculations  respecting  the  company  to  which  the  poet  may 
then  have  belonged;  but  the  fact  is  that  we  are  destitute 
of  any  information,  and  have  no  relative  means  of  form- 
ing an  opinion  on  the  subject.     Even  if  it  be  conceded 
that  Burbage's  theater  was  the  first  with  which  Shakespeare 
was  connected,  no  progress  is  made  in  the  enquiry.     That 
personage,  who  had  retired  from  the  stage,  was  in  the 
habit  of  letting  the  building  to  any  public  entertainers  who 
would  remunerate  him  either  in  cash  or  by  a  share  of  prof- 
its.    There  was  no  establishment  at  that  time  devoted  for 
a  long  continuous  period  to  the  use  of  a  single  company. 
It  is,  however,  all  but  certain  that  the  favorite  theory 
of  Shakespeare  having  been  one  of  the  Queen's  servants 
at  this  period  is  incorrect,  for  his  name  is  not  found  in 
the  official  hst  belonging  to  the  following  year;  so  that, 
if  he  was  connected  in  any  way  with  them,  he  could  at 
the  latter  date  have  been  merely  one  of  the  underlings 
who  were  not  in  a  position  of  sufficient  importance  to  be 
included  in  the  register.     With  the  single  exception  of  the 
absence  of  his  name  from  that  list,  no  evidence  whatever 
has  been  discovered  to  warrant  a  conjecture  on  the  sub- 
ject.    But  although  there  is  no  reason  for  believing  that 

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SHAKESPEARE  Life 

he  was  ever  one  of  tlie  royal  actors,  we  may  be  sure  that 
he  must  have  witnessed,  either  at  Stratford  or  London, 
some  of  the  inimitable  performances  of  the  company's  star, 
the  celebrated  Richard  Tarlton.  This  individual,  the 
"pleasant  Willy"  of  Spenser,  who  died  in  September,  1588, 
was  the  most  popular  comedian  of  the  day,  one  of  those 
instinctive  humorists  who  have  merely  to  show  their  faces 
to  be  greeted  with  roars  of  merriment.  It  may  have  been, 
when  the  part  of  Derick,  the  clown,  was  in  his  hands,  that 
Shakespeare  became  acquainted  with  the  Famous  Victories 
of  Henry  the  Fifth,  a  lively  play,  some  of  the  incidents  of 
which  he  unquestionably  recollected  when  composing  his 
histories  of  that  sovereign  and  his  predecessor.  There 
was  another  drama  that  was  played  in  London  about  the 
eame  time,  one  in  which  Tarlton's  personation  of  a  disso- 
lute youth  was  singularly  popular  and  long  remembered. 
In  this  latter  was  a  death-bed  scene,  a  notice  of  which  may 
be  worth  giving  as  an  example  of  the  dramatic  incidents 
that  were  relished  in  the  poet's  early  days ; — A  wealthy 
father,  in  the  last  extremity  of  illness,  communicates  his 
testamentary  intentions  to  his  three  sons.  His  landed 
estates  are  alloted  to  the  eldest,  who,  overcome  with  emo- 
tion, expresses  a  fervent  wish  that  the  invalid  may  yet 
survive  to  enjoy  them  himself.  To  the  next,  who  is  a 
scholar,  are  left  a  handsome  annuity  and  a  very  large 
sum  of  money  for  the  purchase  of  books.  Affected  equally 
with  his  brother,  he  declares  that  he  has  no  wish  for  such 
gifts,  and  only  hopes  that  the  testator  may  live  to  enjoy 
them  himself.  The  third  son,  represented  by  Tarlton,  was 
now  summoned  to  the  bed-side,  and  a  grotesque  figure  he 
must  have  appeared  in  a  costume  which  is  described  by  an 
eye-witness  as  including  a  torn   and  dirty  shirt,  a   one- 

59 


Life  WILLIAM 

sleeved  coat,  stockings  out  at  heels,  and  a  head-dress  of 
feathers  and  straw.  "As  for  you,  sirrah,"  quoths  the 
indignant  parent,  "you  know  how  often  I  have  fetched  you 
out  of  Newgate  and  Bridewell; — you  have  been  an  un- 
gracious villain ; — I  have  nothing  to  bequeath  to  you  but 
the  gallows  and  a  rope."  Following  the  example  of  the 
others,  Tarlton  bursts  into  a  flood  of  tears,  and  then,  fall- 
ing on  his  knees,  sobbingly  exclaims, — "O,  father,  I  do 
not  desire  them ; — I  trust  to  Heaven  you  shall  live  to  enjoy 
them  yourself." 

It  may  be  gathered,  from  the  poet's  subsequent  history, 
that  his  return  to  Stratford-on-Avon  was  merely  of  a  tem- 
porary character.  The  actors  of  those  days  were,  as  a 
rule,  individual  wanderers,  spending  a  large  portion  of 
their  time  at  a  distance  from  their  families;  and  there  is 
every  reason  for  believing  that  this  was  the  case  with 
Shakespeare  from  the  period  of  his  arrival  in  London 
until  nearly  the  end  of  his  lix^e.  All  the  old  theatrical 
companies  were  more  or  less  of  an  itinerant  character,  and 
it  is  all  but  impossible  that  he  should  not  have  already 
commenced  his  provincial  tours.  But  what  were  their  di- 
rections, or  who  were  his  associates,  have  not  been  discov- 
ered. There  is  not,  indeed,  a  single  particle  of  evidence 
respecting  his  career  during  the  next  five  years,  that  is  to 
say,  from  the  time  of  the  Lambert  negotiation,  in  1587, 
until  he  is  discovered  as  a  rising  actor  and  dramatist  in 
1592. 

This  interval  must  have  been  the  chief  period  of  Shake- 
speare's literary  education.  Removed  prematurely  from 
school ;  residing  with  illiterate  relatives  in  a  bookless  neigh- 
borhood; thrown  into  the  midst  of  occupations  adverse  to 
scholastic  progress — it  is  difficult  to  believe  that,  when  he 

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SHAKESPEARE  Life 

first  left  Stratford,  he  was  not  all  but  destitute  of  polished 
accomplishments.  He  could  not,  at  all  events,  under  the 
circumstances  in  which  he  had  then  so  long  been  placed, 
have  had  the  opportunity  of  acquiring  a  refined  style  of 
composition.  After  he  had  once,  however,  gained  a  foot- 
ing in  London,  he  would  have  been  placed  under  difFerentj 
conditions.  Books  of  many  kinds  would  have  been  accessi- 
ble to  him,  and  he  would  have  been  almost  daily  within 
hearing  of  the  best  dramatic  poetry  of  the  age.  There 
would  also  no  doubt  have  been  occasional  facilities  for 
picking  up  a  little  smattering  of  the  continental  languages, 
and  it  is  almost  beyond  a  doubt  that  he  added  somewhat 
to  his  classical  knowledge  during  his  residence  in  the  me- 
tropolis. It  is,  for  instance,  hardly  possible  that  the 
Amoves  of  Ovid,  whence  he  derived  his  earliest  motto,  could 
have  been  one  of  his  school-books. 

Although  Shakespeare  had  exhibited  a  taste  for  poetic 
composition  before  his  first  departure  from  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  all  traditions  agree  in  the  statement  that  he  was 
a  recognized  actor  before  he  joined  the  ranks  of  the  dram- 
atists. This  latter  event  appears  to  have  occurred  on 
March  3,  1592,  when  a  new  drama,  entitled  Henry,  or 
Harry,  the  Sixth,  was  brought  out  by  Lord  Strange's  Serv- 
ants, then  acting  either  at  Newington  or  Southwark  under 
an  arrangement  with  Henslowe,  a  wealthy  stage  manager, 
to  whom  no  doubt  the  author  had  sold  the  play.  In  this 
year,  as  we  learn  on  unquestionable  authority,  Shakespeare 
was  first  rising  into  prominent  notice,  so  that  the  history 
then  produced,  now  known  as  the  First  Part  of  Henry  the 
Sixth,  was,  in  all  probability,  his  earliest  complete  dramatic 
work.  Its  extraordinary  success  must  have  secured  for 
the  author  a  substantial  position  in  the  theatrical  world 

61 


Life  WILLIAM 

of  the  day.  The  play  had,  for  those  times,  an  unusually 
long  run,  so  that  Nash,  writing  in  or  before  the  following 
month  of  July,  states  that  the  performances  of  it  had, 
in  that  short  interval,  been  witnessed  by  "ten  thousand 
spectators  at  least,"  and,  although  this  estimate  may  be 
overstrained,  there  can  be  no  hesitation  in  receiving  it  as 
a  valid  testimony  to  the  singular  popularity  of  the  new 
drama.  The  Second  Part  of  Henry  the  Sixth  must  have 
appeared  soon  afterward,  but  no  record  of  its  production 
on  the  stage  has  been  preserved.  The  former  drama  was 
published  for  the  first  time  in  the  collective  edition  of 
1623.  A  garbled  and  spurious  version  of  the  second  play, 
the  unskillful  v/ork  of  some  one  who  had  not  access  to  a 
perfect  copy  of  the  original,  appeared  in  the  year  1594* 
under  the  title  of  the  First  Part  of  the  Contention  betzvixt 
the  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster.  It  was  published  by 
Millington,  the  same  bookseller  who  afterwards  issued  the 
surreptitious  edition  of  Henry  the  Fifth. 

Robert  Greene,  a  popular  writer  and  dramatist,  who 
had  commenced  his  literary  career  nine  years  previously, 
died  on  September  3,  1592.  In  a  work  entitled  the 
Groatsworth  of  Wit,  written  shortly  before  his  death,  he 
had  travestied,  in  an  Interesting  sarcastic  episode  respect- 
ing some  of  his  contemporaries,  a  line  from  one  of  Shake- 
speare's then  recent  compositions, — O,  tiger's  heart, 
mrapp'd  in  a  woman's  hide!  This  line  is  of  extreme  inter- 
est as  including  the  earliest  record  of  words  composed  by 
the  great  dramatist.  It  forms  part  of  a  vigorous  speech 
which  is  as  Shakespearean  in  its  natural  characterial  fidel- 
ity, as  it  is  Marlowean  in  its  diction.  That  speech  of  the 
unfortunate  Duke  of  York's  is  one  of  the  most  striking  in 
the  play,  and  the  above  line  was  probably  selected  for  qua- 

62 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

tfttion  by  Greene  on  account  of  its  popularity  through 
effective  delivery.  Tlie  quotation  shows  that  the  Third 
Part  of  Hemy  the  Sixth  was  written  previously  to  Sep- 
tember, 1592,  and  hence  it  may  be  concluded  that  all 
Shakespeare's  plays  on  the  subject  of  that  reign,  although 
perhaps  subsequently  revised  in  a  few  places  by  the  author, 
were  originally  produced  in  that  year.  A  surreptitious 
and  tinkered  version  of  the  third  part,  made  up  by  an 
inferior  hand  chiefly  out  of  imperfect  materials,  appeared 
in  1595  under  the  title  of  the  Tragedy  of  Richard  Duke 
of  York,  and  therein  stated  to  have  been  "sundry  times 
acted  by  the  Earl  of  Pembroke's  servants." 

There  is  no  reason  for  wonder  in  the  style  of  a  young 
author  being  Influenced  by  that  of  a  popular  and  accom- 
plished contemporary,  and  judgment  on  the  authorship  of 
much  of  the  above-named  plays  should  not  be  ruled  by  a 
criticism  which  can  only  fairly  be  applied  to  the  rapidly 
approaching  period  when  the  great  dramatist  had  out- 
lived the  possibility  of  appearing  in  the  character  of  an 
imitative  writer.  That  Shakespeare  commenced  his  lit- 
erary vocation  as,  to  some  extent,  a  follower  of  Marlowe 
can  hardly  be  denied,  even  were  the  line  quoted  by  Greene 
the  only  remnant  of  his  early  plays;  and  that  the  three 
parts  of  Henry  the  Sixth  had  been  some  years  on  the  stage, 
when  Henry  the  Fifth  was  produced  in  1599,  may  be  gath- 
ered from  that  interesting  relic  of  literary  autobiography, 
the  final  chorus  to  the  latter  play.  No  theory  respecting 
the  history  of  the  former  dramas  is  wholly  free  from 
embarrassing  perplexities,  but  that  which  best  agrees  with 
the  positive  evidences  is  that  which  concedes  the  author- 
ship of  the  three  plays  to  Shakespeare,  their  production 
to  the  year  1592,  and  the  quarto  editions  of  the  second  and 

63 


Life  WILLIAM 

third  parts  as  vamped,  imperfect,  and  blundering  versions 
of  the  poet's  own  original  dramas. 

The  Groatsworth  of  Wit  was  published  very  soon  after 
the  unfortunate  writer's  decease,  that  is  to  say,  it  appeared 
towards  the  end  of  September,  1592 ;  and  it  is  clear  that 
one  portion  of  it  had  been  composed  under  the  influence 
of  a  profound  jealousy  of  Shakespeare.  Greene  is  ad- 
dressing his  fellow-dramatists,  and  speaking  of  the  actors 
of  their  plays,  thus  introduces  his  satirical  observations 
on  the  author  of  the  Third  Part  of  Hen/ry  the  Sixth, 
with  a  travesty  of  the  line  above  mentioned, — "trust  them 
not,  for  there  is  an  upstart  crow,  beautified  with  our  feath- 
ers, that,  with  his  Tygers  heart  wrapt  in  a  Players  hide, 
supposes  he  is  as  well  able  to  bumbast  out  a  blanke  verse 
as  the  best  of  you ;  and  being  an  absolute  Johannes  facto- 
tum, is,  in  his  owne  conceit,  the  onely  Shake-scene  in  a 
countrie."  It  was  natural  that  these  impertinent  remarks 
should  have  annoyed  the  object  of  them,  and  that  they 
were  so  far  effective  may  be  gathered  from  an  interest- 
ing statement  made  by  the  editor,  Henry  Chettle,  in  a  work 
of  his  own,  entitled  Kind-Heart's  Dream,  that  he  pub- 
lished a  few  weeks  afterward,  in  which  he  specially  re- 
grets that  the  attack  had  proved  offensive  to  Shakespeare, 
whom,  he  observes, — "at  that  time  I  did  not  so  much  spare 
as  since  I  wish  I  had,  for  that,  as  I  have  moderated  tlie 
heate  of  living  writers,  and  might  have  usde  my  owne  dis- 
cretion, especially  in  such  a  case,  the  author  beeing  dead, 
that  I  did  not  I  am  as  sory  as  if  the  originall  fault  had 
becne  my  fault,  because  myselfe  have  seene  his  demeanor 
no  lesse  civill  than  he  exelent  in  the  qualitie  he  professes; 
besides,  divers  of  worship  have  reported  his  uprightnes  of 
dealing,  which  argues  his  honesty,  and  his  facetious  grace 

64 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

in  writting,  that  aprooves  his  art."  Apologies  of  this 
kind  are  so  apt  to  be  overstrained  that  we  can  hardly 
gather  more  from  the  present  one  than  the  respectable 
position  Shakespeare  held  as  a  writer  and  actor,  and  that 
Chettle,  having  made  his  acquaintance,  was  desirous  of 
keeping  friends  with  one  who  was  beginning  to  be  appreci- 
ated by  the  higher  classes  of  society.  The  annoyance, 
however,  occasioned  by  Greene's  posthumous  criticism  was 
soon,  forgotten  by  the  poet  amid  the  triumphs  of  his  sub- 
sequent career. 

Removing  now  the  scene  of  our  fragmentary  history 
from  the  metropolis  to  the  country,  we  find,  at  the  time 
of  Greene's  lampoonry,  the  poet's  father  busily  engaged 
with  his  counters  in  appraising  the  goods  of  one  Henry 
Field,  a  tanner  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  whose  inventory, 
attached  to  his  will,  was  taken  in  August,  1592.  This 
tradesman's  son,  Richard,  who  was  apprenticed  to  a  printer 
in  London  in  the  year  1579,  took  up  his  freedom  in  1587, 
and  soon  aftenvards  commenced  business  on  his  own  ac- 
count, an  elegant  copy  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  1589, 
being  among  the  numerous  works  that  issued  from  his 
press.  It  is  most  likely,  indeed  all  but  certain,  that  Shake- 
speare participated  in  his  father's  acquaintance  with  the 
printer's  relatives,  and  at  all  events  there  was  the  provin- 
cial tie,  so  specially  dear  to  Englishmen  when  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  town  of  their  birth,  between  the  poet  and 
Richard  Field.  When,  therefore,  the  latter  is  discovered, 
early  in  the  year  1593,  engaged  in  the  production  of  Vemis 
and  Adonis,  it  is  only  reasonable  to  infer  that  the  author 
had  a  control  over  the  typographical  arrangements.  The 
purity  of  the  text  and  the  nature  of  the  dedication  may 
be  thought  to  strengthen  this  opinion,  and  although  poems 

65 


Life  WILLIAM 

were  not  then  generally  introduced  to  the  public  in  the 
same  glowing  terms  usually  accorded  to  dramatic  pieces, 
the  singularly  brief  and  anonymous  title-page  does  not 
bear  the  appearance  of  a  publisher's  handywork.  Field, 
however,  registered  the  copyright  to  himself  on  April  18, 
and  the  work  was  offered  for  sale,  at  the  White  Greyhound 
in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  by  his  friend,  John  Harrison, 
the  publisher  of  the  first  three  editions,  and  who  next  year 
became  the  owner  both  of  the  Vemis  and  Lucrece.  It  may 
be  well  to  record  that  the  publication  had  what  was  prob- 
ably the  vicarious  sanction  of  no  less  an  individual  than 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  who,  although  no  Puritan, 
would  scarcely  have  considered  its  exquisite  versification 
suflScient  to  atone  for  its  voluptuous  character. 

The  poem  of  Vemn  and  Adords,  which  was  favorably 
received  and  long  continued  to  be  the  most  popular  book 
of  the  kind,  is  termed  by  the  author  "the  first  heir  of  my 
invention.'*  If  these  words  are  to  be  literally  interpreted, 
it  must  have  been  written  in  or  before  the  year  1592;  but 
Shakespeare  may  be  referring  only  to  works  of  a  strictly 
poetical  character,  which  were  then  held  in  far  higher  esti- 
mation than  dramatic  compositions.  However  that  may 
be,  the  oft-repeated  belief  that  Vemis  a/nd  Adonis  was  a 
production  of  his  younger  days  at  Stratford-on-Avon  can 
hardly  be  sustained.  It  is  extremely  improbable  that  an 
epic,  so  highly  finished  and  so  completely  devoid  of  patois, 
could  have  been  produced  under  the  circumstances  of  his 
then  domestic  surroundings,  while,  moreover,  the  notion  is 
opposed  to  the  best  and  earliest  traditional  opinions.  It  is 
also  to  be  observed  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  dedication 
in  favor  of  such  a  conjecture,  although  the  fact,  had  it 
been  one,  would  have  formed  a  ready  and  natural  defense 

66 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

against  the  writer's  obvious  timidity.  The  work  was  in- 
scribed, apparently  without  permission,  to  Lord  Southamp- 
ton, a  young  nobleman  then  only  in  his  twentieth  year,  wiio 
about  this  time  had  commenced  to  exhibit  a  special  dispo- 
sition to  encourage  the  rising  authors  of  the  metropolis. 

Literature,  in  Shakespeare's  time,  was  nearly  the  only 
passport  of  the  lower  and  middle  class  to  the  countenance 
and  friendship  of  the  great.  It  was  no  wonder  that  the 
poet,  in  days  when  interest  was  all  but  omnipotent,  should 
have  wished  to  secure  the  advantages  that  could  hardly 
fail  to  be  derived  from  a  special  association  with  an  indi- 
vidual in  the  favored  position,  and  with  the  exceptionally 
generous  character,  of  Lord  Southampton.  Wealthy,  ac- 
complished and  romantic, — with  a  temperament  that  could 
listen  to  a  metrical  narrative  of  the  follies  of  Venus  with- 
out yielding  to  hysterics, — the  young  nobleman  was  pre- 
sumably the  most  eligible  dedicatee  that  Shakespeare  could 
have  desired  for  the  introduction  of  his  first  poem  to  the 
literary  world.  It  is  evident,  however,  that,  when  he  was 
penning  the  inscription  to  Venu^  and  Adonis,  whatever  pre- 
sentiment he  may  have  entertained  on  the  subject,  he  was 
by  no  means  sure  that  his  lordship  would  give  a  friendly 
reception  to,  much  less  so  that  he  would  be  gratified  by, 
the  intended  compliment.  But  all  doubts  upon  these  points 
were  speedily  removed,  and  little  more  than  a  twelvemonth 
elapsed  before  the  poet  is  found  warmly  attached  to  Lord 
Southampton,  and  eagerly  taking  the  opportunity,  in  his 
second  address,  of  tendering  his  gratitude  for  favors  con- 
ferred in  the  interval. 

In  the  winter  season  of  1593-4,  Shakespeare's  earliest 
tragedy,  which  was,  unfortunately,  based  on  a  repulsive 
tale,  was  brought  out  by  the  Earl  of  Sussex's  actors,  who 

67 


Life  WILLIAM 

were  then  performing,  after  a  tour  in  the  provinces,  at 
one  of  the  Surrey  theaters.  They  were  either  hired  by, 
or  playing  under  some  financial  arrangement  with,  Hens- 
lowe,  who,  after  the  representation  of  a  number  of  revivals, 
ventured  upon  the  production  of  a  drama  on  the  story  of 
Titus  Andronicus,  the  only  new  play  introduced  during 
the  season.  This  tragedy,  having  been  successfully  pro- 
duced before  a  large  audience  on  January  23,  1594,  was 
shortly  afterward  entered  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers' 
Company  and  published  by  Danter.  It  was  also  per- 
formed, almost  if  not  quite  simultaneously,  by  the  serv- 
ants of  the  Earls  of  Derby  and  Pembroke.  Thus  it  ap- 
pears that  Shakespeare,  up  to  this  period,  had  written  all 
his  dramas  for  Henslowe,  and  that  they  were  acted,  under 
the  sanction  of  that  manager,  by  the  various  companies 
performing  from  1592  to  1594  at  the  Rose  Theater  and 
Newington  Butts.  The  acting  copies  of  Titus  Andronicus 
and  the  three  parts  of  Henry  the  Sia:th  must  of  course  have 
been  afterwards  transferred  by  Henslowe  to  the  Lord 
Chamberlain's  company. 

Hideous  and  repulsive  as  the  story  of  Tamora  and 
the  Andronici  is  now  considered,  it  was  anything  but  re- 
pugnant to  the  taste  of  the  general  public  in  Henslowe's 
day.  Neither  was  it  regarded  as  out  of  the  pale  of  the 
legitimate  drama  by  the  most  cultivated,  otherwise  so  able 
a  scholar  and  critic  as  Meres  would  hardly,  several  years 
after  the  appearance  of  Titus  Andronicus,  have  inserted 
its  title  among  those  of  the  noteworthy  tragedies  of  Shake- 
speare. The  audiences  of  Elizabeth's  time  reveled  in  the 
very  crudity  of  the  horrible,  so  much  so  that  nearly  every 
kind  of  bodily  torture  and  mutilation,  or  even  more  revolt- 
ing incidents,  formed  part  of  the  stock  business  of  the 

68 


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(/) 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

theater.  Murders  were  in  special  request  in  all  kinds  of 
serious  dramas.  Wilson,  one  of  Lord  Leicester's  servants, 
was  thought  in  1581  to  be  just  the  person  to  write  a  play 
then  urgently  desired,  which  was  not  only  to  "be  original 
and  amusing,"  but  was  also  to  include  "plenty  of  mys- 
tery," and  "be  full  of  all  sorts  of  murders,  immorality,  and 
robberies."  Nor  was  the  taste  for  the  predominance  of  the 
worst  kind  of  sensational  incidents  restricted  to  the  pub- 
lic stage,  as  any  one  may  see  who  will  care  to  peruse  the 
Misfortunes  of  Arthur,  produced  with  gi*eat  flourish  by 
the  students  of  Gray's  Inn  in  1588.  This  deplorable  fancy 
was  nearly  in  its  zenith  at  the  time  of  the  appearance 
of  Titus  Androiiicus.  In  the  same  year,  1594),  there  was 
published  the  Tragicall  Raigne  of  Sellmus,  Emperour  of 
the  Turkes,  a  composition  offering  similar  attractions,  but 
the  writer  was  so  afraid  of  his  massacres  being  considered 
too  insipid,  he  thus  reveals  his  misgivings  to  the  audience, — 

"If  this  First  Part,  gentles,  do  like  you  well, 
The  Second  Part  shall  greater  murders  tell." 

The  character  of  the  theatrical  speculations  of  Henslowe 
was  obviously  influenced,  in  common  with  that  of  nearly 
all  managers,  by  the  current  tastes  of  the  public,  and,  in 
an  age  like  the  one  now  spoken  of,  is  it  wonderful  that 
he  should  have  considered  the  story  of  Titus  Andronicus 
a  fit  theme  for  the  dramatist.''  Is  it  also  marvelous  that 
Shakespeare,  a  young  author  then  struggling  into  position, 
should  not  have  felt  it  his  duty,  on  aesthetic  grounds,  to 
reject  an  off^er  the  acceptance  of  which  invited  no  hostile 
criticism,  while  it  opened  out  a  prospect  of  material  ad- 
vantages.'^    Hcnslowe's  judgment,  regulated  by  thoughts 

of  the  money-box,  not  by  those  of  attempted  reforms  of 
Shk-l-4  QQ 


Life  WILLIAM 

the  drama,  were  no  doubt  in  his  own  opinion  amply 
justified  by  the  result.  A  certain  deference  to  the  ex- 
pectations of  a  popular  audience  is,  indeed,  nearly  always 
essential  to  the  continuous  support  of  a  theater,  and  it  is 
not  unlikely  that  the  very  incidents  now  so  offensive  were 
those  which  mainly  contributed  to  the  success  of  the  trag- 
edy. As  for  the  poet's  share  in  the  transaction,  we  are 
too  apt  to  consider  it  indefensible  under  any  measure  of 
temptation,  without  reflecting  to  what  extent  a  familiarity 
with  representative  horrors  might  produce  an  unconscious 
indifference  to  their  ghastliness  even  in  the  tenderest  of  na- 
tures. Such  horrors  belong  to  the  taste  of  the  age,  not  to 
that  of  the  individual.  We  must  try  to  reconcile  ourselves, 
as  best  we  may,  to  the  obvious  fact  that  Shakespeare  did 
not  always  consider  it  necessary  to  deviate  from  the  course 
of  his  foundation-tales  for  the  sake  of  avoiding  the  bar- 
barities of  the  ancient  stage.  Had  it  been  othei^wise,  the 
story  of  Titiis  Andronicus  might  have  been  purified,  and 
we  also  mercifully  spared  from  a  contemplation  of  the 
appalling  eye-scene  In  the  traged}^  of  Lear. 

No  discussion  on  either  of  the  last-named  plays,  or  on 
many  of  the  others,  can  be  satisfactorily  conducted  so 
long  as  the  influences  of  the  older  drama,  and  the  theatric 
usages  of  the  time,  are  not  ever  carefully  borne  in  mind. 
It  is  a  fallacy  to  admit,  with  many,  the  necessity  of  true 
criticism  being  grounded  upon  a  reverential  belief  that 
the  whole  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  In  the  forms  In  which 
they  have  descended  to  us,  are  examples  of  the  unvary- 
ing perfection  of  the  writer's  judgment  and  dramatic  art. 
That  he  was  endowed  with  an  exquisite  judgment  there 
is  ample  evidence,  but  that  It  was  not  always  utilized  is 
equally   indisputable.     It  is   obvious  that,  in   several   in- 

70 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

stances,  when  vivifying  some  of  the  most  popular  old 
English  dramas,  he  was  contented  to  transfer  irrational 
plots  and  defective  constructions  that  had  been  firmly 
established  in  public  favor.  The  latter  were  sometimes 
adopted  without  an  effort  to  bring  them  into  harmony  with 
the  conduct  of  the  action ;  and  there  appears  to  have  been 
generally  a  disinclination  on  his  part  to  originate  either 
plots  or  incidents.  So  numerous  were  the  popular  and 
other  tales  that  were  suited  for  contemporary  dramatic 
purposes,  there  was,  as  a  rule,  no  theatrical  necessity  for 
his  inventing  either;  while  the  creation  of  a  new  story, 
never  an  easy  and  generally  a  hazardous  task  for  a  dram- 
atist, might  have  been  more  trouble  to  him  than  the  com- 
position of  a  play.  Shakespeare  was  leading  a  busy  life, 
and  there  are  no  indications  that  he  would  have  delated  the 
completion  of  any  one  of  his  works  for  the  sake  of  art. 
It  should  be  remembered  that  his  dramas  were  not  written 
for  posterit}',  but  as  a  matter  of  business,  never  for  his 
own  speculation  but  always  for  that  of  the  managers  of 
the  theater,  the  choice  of  subject  being  occasionally  dic- 
tated by  them  or  by  patrons  of  the  stage ;  his  task  having 
been  to  constnict  out  of  certain  given  or  elected  materials 
successful  dramas  for  the  audiences  of  the  day.  It  is  not 
pretended  that  he  did  not  invariably  take  an  earnest  inter- 
est in  his  work,  his  intense  sympathy  with  each  character 
forbidding  such  an  assumption ;  but  simply  that  his  other 
tastes  were  subordinated  when  necessary  to  his  duty  to  his 
employers.  If  the  managers  considered  that  the  popular 
feeling  was  likely  to  encourage,  or  if  an  influential  patron 
or  the  Court  desired,  the  production  of  a  drama  on  some 
special  theme,  it  was  composed  to  order  on  that  subject, 
no  matter  how  repulsive  the  character  of  the  plot  or  how 

71 


Life  WILLIAM 

intrinsically  it  was  unfitted  for  dramatic  purposes.  Work- 
ing thus  under  the  domination  of  a  commercial  spirit,  it 
is  impossible  to  say  to  what  extent  his  work  was  affected 
by  unfavorable  influences ;  such,  for  example,  as  the  neces- 
sity of  finishing  a  drama  with  undue  haste,  the  whole,  as 
it  may  have  been,  especially  in  his  early  days,  written 
under  disturbing  circumstances  in  the  room  of  a  noisy 
tavern  or  in  an  inconvenient  lodging  that  served  him  for 
"parlor,  kitchen,  and  hall."  And,  again,  besides  the  incon- 
gruities derived  from  the  older  plays  or  novels,  his  control 
over  his  art  was  occasionally  liable  to  be  governed  by  the 
customs  and  exigencies  of  the  ancient  stage,  so  much  so 
that,  in  a  few  instances,  the  action  of  a  scene  was  diverted 
for  the  express  purpose  of  compl3'ing  with  those  necessi- 
ties. From  some  of  these  causes  may  have  arisen  simul- 
taneous inequalities  in  taste  and  art  which  otherwise  appear 
to  be  inexplicable,  and  which  would  doubtlessly  have  been 
removed  had  Shakespeare  lived  to  have  given  the  public  a 
revised  edition  of  his  works  during  his  retirement  at  Strat- 
ford-on-Avon,  and  had  also  wished  to  display  that  uniform- 
ity of  excellence  which  he  alone,  of  all  prolific  writers, 
might  have  achieved. 

The  Burbages,  however,  had  no  conception  of  his  intel- 
lectual supremacy,  and,  if  they  had,  it  is  certain  that  they 
would  not  have  deviated  on  that  account  from  the  course 
they  were  in  the  habit  of  pursuing.  In  their  estimation, 
however,  he  was  merely,  to  use  their  own  words,  a  "deserv- 
ing man,"  an  effective  actor  and  a  popular  writer,  one  who 
would  not  have  been  considered  so  valuable  a  member  of 
their  staff  had  he  not  also  worked  as  a  practical  man  of 
business,  knowing  that  the  success  of  the  theater  was  identi 
fied  with  his  own,  and  that,  within  certain  limits,  it  was 

72 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

necessary  that  his  art  should  be  regulated  by  expediency. 
There  is,  indeed,  no  evidence  that  Shakespeare  wrote,  at 
any  period  of  his  life,  without  a  constant  reference  to  the 
immediate  effect  of  his  dramas  upon  the  theatrical  public 
of  his  own  da}' ;  and  it  may  reasonably  be  suspected  that 
there  is  not  one  of  them  which  is  the  result  of  an  express 
or  cherished  literary  design.  He  was  sometimes,  more- 
over, in  such  a  hurry  of  composition  that  a  reference  to 
the  original  foundation-story  is  necessary  for  the  complete 
elucidation  of  his  meaning,  another  circumstance  which  is 
incompatible  with  a  resolute  desire  for  the  construction  of 
perfect  artistic  work.  This  is  one  of  the  several  indica- 
tions which  lead  to  the  high  probability  that  his  theatrical 
success  was  neither  the  result  of  a  devotion  to  art,  nor  of 
a  solicitude  for  the  eulogy  of  readers,  but  of  his  unrivaled 
power  of  characterization,  of  his  intimate  knowledge  of 
stage  business,  and  of  a  fidelity  to  mental  nature  that 
touched  the  hearts  of  all.  These  qualities,  although  less 
prominently  developed  in  Titus  Andronicus  than  in  many 
other  of  his  plays,  are  yet  to  be  observed  in  that  inferior 
work.  Even  amid  its  display  of  barbarous  and  abandoned 
personages,  neither  sternness  nor  profligacy  is  pennitted 
to  altogether  extinguish  the  natural  emotions,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  the  unities  of  character  are  well  sustained.  It 
is  by  tests  such  as  these,  not  by  counting  its  syllables  or 
analyzing  its  peculiarities  of  style,  that  the  authenticity 
of  Shakespeare's  earliest  tragedy  should  be  determined. 

Although  it  is  dangerous  nowadays  to  enter  upon  the 
history  of  Shakespeare's  art  with  the  language  of  common- 
sense,  the  risk  must  be  encountered  if  we  are  not  contented 
to  lose  interesting  examples  of  the  poet's  youthful  genius. 
If,  indeed,  all  is  to  be  discarded  that  offends  the  extra- 


t  tJ 


Life  WILLIAM 

judicial  taste  of  modern  purists,  the  object  of  our  idol- 
atry will  be  converted  into  a  king  of  dramatic  shreds  and 
patches.  The  evil  arises  from  the  practice  of  discussing 
the  intricacies  of  that  art  without  reference  to  the  con- 
ditions under  which  it  was  evolved.  Those  which  have 
been  above-mentioned  will  go  far  to  explain  many  diffi- 
culties, and  especially  the  singular  variations  of  power 
that  are  occasionally  to  be  traced  in  one  and  the  same 
drama.  A  few  words  on  the  general  question  may  now 
be  added.  In  one  sense,  that  of  being  the  delineator  of 
the  passions  and  character,  Shakespeare  was  the  greatest 
artist  that  ever  lived,  as  he  was  also  in  melody,  in  humor, 
and  in  all  kinds  of  dramatic  expression.  But  in  another 
and  very  usual  meaning  of  that  personal  term,  in  that  of 
being  an  elaborator  intent  on  rendering  his  component 
work  artistically  faultless  in  the  eye  of  criticism,  he  can 
hardly  be  thought  to  have  even  a  slight  claim  to  the  title. 
When  Ben  Jonson  told  Drummond  of  Hawthornden,  in 
1619,  that  "Shakespeai-e  wanted  art,"  he  referred  no 
doubt  to  his  general  negligence  in  the  latter  respect,  and 
perhaps  especially  to  his  occasional  defects  in  construc- 
tion. One  of  Shakespeare's  most  wonderful  gifts  was  his 
unlimited  power  of  a  characterial  invention  to  suit  any 
kind  of  plot,  no  matter  how  ill-advised,  and,  at  the  same 
time  harmonize  with  theatrical  expediencies,  however 
incongruous,  which  might  have  been  considered  by  the 
managers  or  actors  to  have  been  essential  to  the  mainten- 
ance of  popularity.  "His  wit,"  observes  the  same  Rare 
Ben,  dissatisfied  with  what  he  no  doubt  thought  a  reckless 
mode  of  composition,  "was  in  his  own  power; — would  the 
rule  of  it  had  been  so  too !"  It  was  natural  that  Jonson, 
with  his  reverence  for  classical  models,^  should  regard  his 

74 


SHAKESPEARE  .  Life 

great  contemporary's  indifference  to  them  with  dismay. 
But  Shakespeare,  endowed  with  an  universal  genius,  cre- 
ated his  personages  by  unfettered  instinct,  and,  most  hap- 
pily, the  times  and  circumstances  were  alike  favorable  to 
the  development  of  the  dramatic  power  by  which  alone  the 
perfect  results  of  that  genius  could  have  been  exhibited. 
Commencing  his  public  life  as  an  actor,  he  had  the  inesti- 
mable advantage  of  gaining  a  preliminary  knowledge  of 
all  that  was  most  likely  to  be  effective  on  the  stage,  the 
then  conventionalities  of  which,  moreover,  by  their  very 
simplicity,  and  notwithstanding  one  or  two  drawbacks,  were 
eminently  calculated  for  the  fullest  exercise  of  an  author's 
poetic  and  imaginative  faculties.  Then  there  was  a  lan- 
guage which,  having  for  some  time  past  been  emancipated 
from  the  influence  of  literal  terminations,  had  attained  a 
form  that  gave  matchless  facilities  for  the  display  of  ner\'- 
ous  expression,  and  this  in  the  brightest  period  of  earnest 
and  vigorous  English  thought.  That  language  found  in 
Shakespeare  its  felicitous  and  unrivaled  exponent,  and 
although  on  occasion  his  words  either  imperfectly  repre- 
sent the  thought  or  are  phllologlcally  erroneous,  becoming 
thus  to  mere  readers  inextricably  obscure,  it  may  be  con- 
fidently averred  that  there  is  not  one  speech,  the  essential 
meanings  of  which,  if  it  were  properly  delivered,  would  not 
have  been  directly  Intelligible  to  the  auditory.  He  had 
also  ready  prepared  to  his  hands  the  matured  outward  fonii 
of  a  drama,  its  personages  and  their  histories,  all  waiting 
for  the  hand  that  was  to  endow  them  with  grace  and  life. 
It  was  then  his  unconscious  mission  through  the  most 
effective  agency,  that  of  the  stage,  to  intei-pret  human 
nature  to  the  people.  That  interpretation  was  fortu- 
nately neither  cramped  nor  distorted  by  the  necessity  of 

75 


Life  WILLIAM 

adherence  to  literary  rule,  while  the  popular  tastes  sanc- 
tioned its  uncontrolled  application  to  every  variety  of 
character,  through  all  kinds  of  probable  or  improbable  sit- 
uation,-— before  fairy-land  had  been  exiled,  and  the  thun- 
der of  fie-foh-fum  had  lost  its  solemnity.  Writing  first 
for  a  living,  and  then  for  affluence,  his  sole  aim  was  to 
please  an  audience,  most  of  whom,  be  it  remembered,  were 
not  only  ilhterate,  but  unable  to  either  read  or  write.  But 
this  very  ignorance  of  the  large  majority  of  his  public,  so 
far  from  being-  a  disadvantage,  enabled  him  to  disregard 
restrictive  canons  and  the  tastes  of  scholars, — to  make  that 
appeal  to  the  heart  and  intellect  which  can  only  be  uni- 
versal when  it  reaches  the  intuitive  perceptions  of  the  lov»'- 
liest, — and  by  exhibiting  his  marvelous  conceptions  in  the 
pristine  form  in  which  they  had  instinctively  emanated, 
become  the  poet  of  nature  instead  of  the  poet  of  art. 
That  Shakespeare  wrote  without  effort,  by  inspiration  not 
by  design,  was,  so  far  as  it  has  been  recorded,  the 
unanimous  belief  of  his  contemporaries  and  immediate 
successors.  It  v/as  surely  to  this  comprehensive  truth, 
and  not  exclusively  to  the  natural  music  of  his  verse, 
that  Milton  referred  when,  in  tv/o  of  the  most  exquisite 
lines  respecting  him  that  were  ever  penned,  he  speaks 
of  Fancy's  child,  warbling  "his  native  wood-notes  wild." 
If  those  notes  had  been  cabined  by  philosophy  and 
methodically  cultivated,  they  might  have  been  as  intrin- 
sically powerful,  but  they  would  assuredly  have  lost  much 
of  their  present  charm. 

It  cannot  be  absolutely  observed  of  Shakespeare,  as  it 
has  been  of  another  great  poet,  that  he  woke  up  one 
morning  to  discover  that  he  was  famous,  but  there  is 
reason  for  believing  that  the  publication  of  his  Lucrece,  in 

76 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

the  May  of  this  year,  ISQ-l,  ahnost  inimedlately  secured  for 
its  author  a  higher  reputation  than  would  then  liave  been 
estabhshed  by  the  most  brilhant  efforts  of  dramatic  art. 
This-  magnificent  poem,  which  was  originally  proposed 
to  be  entitled  the  Ravishment  of  Lucrece,  must  have 
been  written  after  the  dedication  to  Venus  and  Adonis, 
and  before  the  entry  of  the  former  work  at  Stationers' 
Hall,  that  is  to  say,  at  some  time  between  April,  1593, 
and  May,  1594.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  estima- 
tion in  which  it  was  held  in  the  year  of  publication,  the 
author  of  an  elegy  on  Lady  Helen  Branch,  1594,  includ- 
ing among  our  greater  poetes, — "you  that  have  writ 
of  chaste  Lucretia,  =  whose  death  was  witnesse  of  her 
spotlesse  life;"  and  Drayton,  in  his  Matilda,  of  the  same 
date,  speaking  of  Lucrece,  "lately  reviv'd  to  live  another 
age."  Shakespeare's  new  poem  is  also  mentioned  in 
Willobie's  Avisa,  published  in  September,  1594,  the  earliest 
contemporary  work  in  which  he  is  introduced  by  name ; 
and  in  the  following  year,  "Lucrecia — sweet  Shakespeare," 
is  a  marginal  note  to  Polimanteia,  1595,  one  which  implies 
that  it  was  then  considered  his  best  work.  Later  refer- 
ences testify  its  continued  appreciation,  and  it  was  received 
as  the  perfect  exposition  of  woman's  chastity,  a  sequel,  or 
rather  perhaps  a  companion,  to  the  earlier  one  of  her 
profligacy.  The  contemporaries  of  Shakespeare  allude 
more  than  once  to  the  two  poems  as  being  his  most  im- 
portant works,  and  as  those  on  which  his  Hterary  distinc- 
tion chiefly  rested. 

The  prefixes  to  the  Vemcs  and  Lucrece  are,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  so  few  biographical  memorials,  inestimable  records 
of  their  author.  The  two  dedications  to  Lord  South- 
ampton and  the  argument  to  the  second  work  are  the  only 

77 


Life  WILLIAM 

non-dramatic  prose  compositions  of  Shakespeare  that  have 
descended  to  modem  times,  while  the  former  are,  alas, 
the  sole  remaining  samples  of  his  epistolary  writings. 
The  latter  are  of  course  by  far  the  more  interesting,  and, 
makins*  allowances  for  the  inordinate  deference  to  rank 
which  then  prevailed,  they  are  perfect  examples  of  the 
judicious  fusion  of  independence  with  courtesy  in  a  sug- 
gestive application  for  a  favor,  and  in  expressions  of 
gratitude  for  its  concession. 

In  the  June  of  this  same  year,  1594,  Titus  Andromcus 
was  performed  at  Newington  Butts  by  tlie  Lord  Chamber- 
lain's, then  acting  in  conjunction  with  the  Lord  Admiral's, 
Servants,  the  poet  most  likely  taking  a  part  in  the  repre- 
sentation. The  earliest  definite  notice,  however,  of  his 
appearance  on  the  stage,  is  one  in  which  he  is  recorded 
as  having  been  a  player  in  two  comedies  that  were  acted 
before  Queen  Elizabeth  in  the  following  December,  at 
Greenwich  Palace.  He  was  then  described  as  one  of 
the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Servants,  and  was  associated  in 
the  performances  with  Kemp  and  Burbage,  the  former 
of  whom  was  the  most  favorite  comedian  of  the  day. 
It  is  not  known  to  what  company  or  companies  Shake- 
speare belonged  previously  to  his  adhesion  to  the  one 
last  named;  but  the  probabilities  are  these. — It  is  well 
ascertained  that  Henslowe  was  an  exceedingly  grasping 
manager,  and  it  is  therefore,  most  unlikely  that  he  would 
have  speculated  in  new  plays  that  were  not  intended  for 
immediate  use.  We  may  then  fairly  assume  that  every 
drama  composed  for  him  would  be,  in  the  first  instance, 
produced  by  the  actors  that  occupied  his  theater  when 
the  manuscript  was  purchased.  Now,  as  Shakespeare 
was  an  actor  as  well  as  a  dramatist,  there  is  an  inclination 

78 


SHAKESPEARE  Lite 

towards  the  belief  that  he  would  have  been  engaged  at 
Henslowe's  theater  when  employed  to  write  for  that 
personage,  and,  if  we  accept  the  theory  of  early  produc- 
tion, would  have  belonged  to  those  companies  by  whom 
the  first  representations  of  his  dramas  were  given.  If 
this  view  be  taken,  it  would  appear  not  altogether  unlikely 
that  the  poet  was  one  of  Lord  Strange's  actors  in  March, 
1592;  one  of  Lord  Pembroke's  a  few  months  later;  and 
that  he  had  joined  the  company  of  the  Earl  of  Sussex 
in  or  before  January,  1594. 

There  were  rare  doings  at  Gray's  Inn  in  the  Christmas 
holidays  of  the  year  last  mentioned.  The  students  of 
that  house  had  usually  excelled  in  their  festive  arrange- 
ments, and  now  they  were  making  preparations  for  revels 
on  a  scale  of  exceptional  magnificence,  sports  that  were 
to  include  burlesque  performances,  masques,  plays  and 
dances,  as  well  as  processions  through  London  and  on 
the  Thames.  A  mock  Court  was  held  at  the  Inn  under 
the  presidency  of  one  Henry  lielmes,  a  Norfolk  gentle- 
man, who  was  elected  Prince  of  Purpoole,  the  ancient 
name  of  the  manor,  other  students  being  elected  to  serve 
under  him  in  all  the  various  offices  then  appertaining  to 
royalty  and  government.  The  grand  entertainment  of 
all  was  arranged  for  the  evening  of  Innocent's  Day, 
December  28,  on  which  occasion  high  scaffolds 
had  been  erected  in  the  hall  for  the  accommodation  of 
the  revelers  and  the  principal  guests,  a  larger  number 
of  the  latter  having  received  invitations.  Among  the 
guests,  the  students  of  the  Inner  Temple,  joining  in  the 
humor  of  their  professional  neighbors,  and  appearing 
as  an  embassy  credited  by  their  Emporer,  arrived  about 
nine    o'clock    "very    gallantly    appointed."     The    ambas- 

79 


Life  WILLIAM 

sador,  we  are  told,  was  "brought  m  very  solemnly,  with 
sound  of  trumpets,  the  King-at-Arras  and  Lords  of 
Purpoole  making  to  his  company,  which  marched  before 
him  in  order; — he  was  received  very  kindly  by  the  Prince, 
and  placed  in  a  chair  beside  his  Highness,  to  the  end  that 
he  might  be  partaker  of  the  sports  intended."  Compli- 
mentary addresses  were  then  exchanged  between  the 
Prince  and  the  Ambassador,  but,  owing  to  defective 
arrangements  for  a  limitation  of  the  number  of  those 
entitled  to  admission  on  the  stage,  there  followed  a  scene 
of  confusion  which  ended  in  the  Templarians  retiring  in 
dudgeon.  "After  their  departure,"  as  we  are  told  in  the 
original  narrative,  "the  throngs  and  tumults  did  some- 
what cease,  although  so  much  of  them  continued  as  was 
able  to  disorder  and  confound  any  good  inventions  what- 
soever; in  regard  whereof,  as  also  for  that  the  sports 
intended  were  especially  for  the  gracing  of  the  Tem- 
plarians, it  was  thought  good  not  to  offer  anything  of 
account  saving  dancing  and  reveling  with  gentlewomen ; 
and,  after  such  sports,  a  Comedy  of  Errors,  like  to  Plautus 
his  Menechmus,  was  played  by  the  players ;  so  that  night 
was  begun  and  continued  to  the  end  in  nothing  but  con- 
fusion and  errors,  whereupon  it  was  afterwards  called 
the  Night  of  Errors."  This  is  the  earliest  notice  of  the 
comedy  which  has  yet  been  discovered,  but  that  it  was 
written  before  the  year  1594)  may  be  inferred  from  an 
allusion  in  it  to  the  civil  war  for  and  against  Henry  IV, 
the  Protestant  heir  to  the  French  throne,  a  contest  which 
terminated  in  1593. 

The  spacious  and  elegant  open-roofed  hall  of  Gray's 
Inn,  the  erection  of  which  was  completed  in  the  year 
1660,  is  one   of  the  only  two   buildings  now  remaining 

80 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

in  London  in  which,  so  far  as  we  know,  any  of  the 
plays  of  Shakespeare  were  performed  in  his  own  time. 
In  accordance  with  the  then  usual  custom  of  the  Inns 
of  Court,  professional  actors  were  engaged  for  the 
representation  of  the  Comedy  of  Errors,  and  although 
tlicir  names  are  not  mentioned,  it  ma}'  be  safely  inferred 
that  the  play  was  acted  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's 
Company,  that  to  which  Shakespeare  was  then  attached, 
and  the  owners  of  the  copyright.  The  performance  must 
have  taken  place  very  late  on  the  night  following  the  day 
in  which  the  poet  appeared  before  Queen  Elizabeth  at 
Greenwich.  On  the  next  evening  there  was  a  Commission 
of  O^^er  and  Tenniner  at  Gray's  Inn  to  enquire  into  the 
circumstances  of  the  misfortunes  of  the  previous  night, 
the  cause  of  the  tumult  being  assigned  to  the  intervention 
of  a  sorcerer;  but  it  is  hardly  pleasant  to  be  told,  even 
in  burlesque,  that  this  personage  was  accused  of  having 
"foisted  a  company  of  base  and  common  fellows  to  make 
up  our  disorders  with  a  play  of  errors  and  confusions." 
The  Comedy  of  Errors,  the  perfection  of  dramatic  farce, 
long  continued  an  acting  play,  it  having  been  performed 
before  James  I  on  December  28,  1604. 

When  Greene  thought  to  be  sarcastic  in  terming 
Shakespeare  "an  absolute  Johannes  Factotum,"  he  fur- 
nished an  independent  and  valuable  testimony  to  the  poet's 
conspicuous  activity.  It  is  but  reasonable  to  assume  that 
part  of  this  energy  in  theatrical  matters  was  devoted,  in 
accordance  with  the  ordinary  practice  of  the  time,  to  the 
revision  and  enlargement  of  the  plays  of  others,  work 
then  assigned  by  managers  to  any  convenient  hands,  with- 
out reference  to  sentimental  views  of  authorial  integrity. 
No  record,  however,  has  been  discovered  of  the  name  of 

81 


Life  WILLIAM 

even  one  drama  so  treated  by  Shakespeare  in  the  early 
period  of  his  career,  so  that,  if  any  such  composition  is  pre- 
served, the  identification  necessarily  depends  upon,  the 
tests  of  internal  evidence.  These  are  valueless  in  the  chief 
direction,  for  there  is  surely  not  a  known  possible  example 
in  which  is  to  be  traced  the  incontestible  supremacy  of 
dramatic  power  that  would  on  that  account  sanction  the 
positive  attribution  of  even  one  of  its  scenes  to  the  pen 
of  the  great  dramatist.  Other  tests,  such  as  those  of 
phraseology  and  mannerism,  are  nearly  always  illusory,  but 
in  an  anonymous  and  popular  drama  entitled  the  Reign 
of  King  Edward  III,  produced  in  or  before-  the  year 
1595,  there  are  occasional  passages  which,  by  most  judg- 
ments, will  be  accepted  as  having  been  written  either  by 
Shakespeare,  or  by  an  exceedingly  dexterous  and  success- 
ful imitator  of  one  of  his  then  favorite  styles  of  com- 
position. For  who  but  one  or  the  other  could  have  en- 
dowed a  kind  and  gentle  lady  with  the  ability  of  replying 
to  the  impertinent  addresses  of  a  foohsh  sovereign  in  words 
such  as  these, — 

As  easy  may  my  intellectual  soul 
Be  lent  away,  and  yet  my  body  live. 
As  lend  my  body,  palace  to  my  soul. 
Away  from  her,  and  yet  retain  my  soul. 
My  body  is  her  bower,  her  court,  her  abbey. 
And  she  an  angel, — pure,  divine,  unspotted! 
If  I  should  lend  her  house,  my  lord,  to  thee, 
I  kill  my  poor  soul,  and  my  poor  soul  me. 

or  have  enabled  the  king,  when  instinctively  acknowledg- 
ing the  dread  effect  of  her  beauty,  to  thus  express  a  wish 
that  "ugly  treason"  might  lie, — 

No  farther  off  than  her  conspiring  eye, 
Which  shoots  infected  poison  in  my  heart, 

82 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

Beyond  repulse  of  wit  or  cure  of  art. 

Now  in  the  snn  alone  it  doth  not  lie, 

With  light  to  take  light  from  a  mortal  eye; 

For  here  two  day-stars,  that  mine  eyes  would  see. 

More  than  the  sun  steal  mine  own  light  from  me. 

Contemplative  desire! — desire  to  be 

In  contemplation  that  may  master  thee. 

or  have  made  the  royal  secretary  convey  his  impression 
of  the  lady's  conquest  in  the  following  lines, — 

I  might  perceive  his  eye  in  her  eye  lost, 

His  ear  to  drink  her  sweet  tongue's  utterance; 

And  changing  passion,  like  inconstant  clouds, 

That  rackt  upon  the  carriage  of  the  winds, 

Increase  and  die  in  his  disturbed  cheeks. 

Lo!  when  she  blush'd  even  then  did  he  look  pale. 

As  if  her  cheeks,  by  some  enchanted  power, 

Attracted  had  the  cherry  blood  from  his. 

Anon,  with  reverent  fear,  when  she  grew  pale, 

His  cheeks  put  on  their  scarlet  ornaments, 

But  no  more  like  her  oriental  red 

Than  brick  to  coral,  or  live  things  to  dead. 

but,  as  it  is  possible  that  Edinmrd  III  was  composed  some 
time  before  the  year  1595,  it  may,  of  course,  be 
assumed  that  Shakespeare  himself  was  the  imitator,  in 
his  own  acknowledged  works,  of  the  style  of  the  writer 
of  this  anonymous  play,  or  that  of  some  other  author, 
the  predecessor  of  both.  Not -one  in  fiftj^  of  the  dramas 
of  this  period  having  descended  to  modem  times,  much 
of  the  reasoning  upon  this  and  similar  questions  must 
be  received  with  grave  suspicion  of  its  validity,  and  the 
exact  history  of  the  composition  of  the  play  above  quoted 
will  most  likely  remain  for  ever  a  mystery.  If,  however, 
it  is  thought  probable  that  Shakespeare's  career  of  imita- 
tion expired  witli  his  treading  in  some  of  the  footsteps 
of  Marlowe,  and  that  he  had  not,  at  the  latest  time  when 

83 


Life  WILLIAM 

Edward  III  could  have  appeared,  achieved  a  popularity 
sufficient  to  attract  imitators  of  his  own  style,  then 
there  will  be  at  least  an  excusable  surmise  that 
his  work  is  to  be  traced  in  parts  of  that  historical  drama. 
Every  now  and  then  one  meets  in  it  with  passages, 
especially  in  the  scenes  referring  to  the  King's  infatua- 
tion for  the  Countess  of  Salisbury,  which  are  so  infinitely 
superior  in  composition  to  the  rest  of  the  play,  and  so 
exactly  in  Shakespeare's  manner,  this  presumption,  under 
the  above  named  premises,  can  scarcely  be  avoided. 
Whether  this  view  be  accepted  or  not,  Edward  III  will, 
under  any  circumstances,  be  indissolubly  connected 
with  the  literary  history  of  the  great  dramatist,  for  one 
of  its  lines  is  also  found  in  his  ninety-fourth  sonnet.  As 
the  last-named  poem,  even  if  it  had  been  written  as  early 
as  1595,  was  not  printed  for  many  years  afterwards,  it  is 
unlikely  that  the  line  in  question  could  have  been  trans- 
planted from  the  sonnet  into  the  play  by  any  one  but 
Shakespeare  himself,  who,  however,  might  have  reversed 
the  operation,  whether  he  were  or  were  not  the  original 
author  of  the  words.  This  is  the  passage  in  the  drama 
in  which  the  line  of  the  sonnet  is  introduced, — 

A  spacious  field  of  reasons  could  I  urge 
Between  his  gloomy  daughter  and  thy  shame, — 
That  poison  shows  worst  in  a  golden  cup; 
Dark  night  seems  darker  by  the  lightning  flash; 
Lilies  that  fester  smell  far  ivorse  than  weeds; 
And  every  glory  that  inclines  to  sin. 
The  shame  is  tre])le  by  the  opposite. 

In  the  summer  of  the  year  1596,  upon  the  death  of 
the  Lord  Chamberlain  on  July  22,  the  company  of  actors 
to  which  the  poet  belo"nged  became  the  sei'vants  of  that 
uobleman's  eldest  son,  Lord  Hunsdon,  and  one  of  the  first 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

dramas  selected  by  them,  while  in  their  new  position,  was 
Shakespeare's  tragedy  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  which  was 
produced  at  the  Curtain  Theater  and  met  with  great  suc- 
cess, liomeo  and  Jtd'iet  may  be  said,  indeed,  to  have 
taken  the  metropolies  by  storm  and  to  have  become  the 
play  of  the  season.  Its  popularity  led  to  the  compilation 
of  an  imperfect  and  unauthorized  edition  which  issued 
from  Banter's  press  in  tlie  following  year,  one  got  up 
in  such  haste  that  two  fonts  of  type  were  engaged  in 
its  composition.  In  1599,  Cuthbert  Burby,  a  bookseller, 
whose  shop  was  near  the  Royal  exchange,  published  the 
tragedy  with  the  overstrained  announcement  that  it  had 
been  "newly  coiTccted,  augmented  and  amended."  This 
is  the  version  of  the  drama  which  is  now  accepted,  and  it 
appears  to  be  an  authentic  copy  of  the  tragedy  pro- 
duced in  1596,  after  a  few  passages  in  the  latter  had  been 
revised  by  the  author.  The  long-continued  popularity  of 
Romeo  and  Jidiet  xnfiy  be  inferred  from  several  early  allu- 
sions, as  well  as  from  the  express  testimony  of  Leonard 
Digges,  but  it  is  rather  singular  that  the  author's  name 
is  not  mentioned  in  any  of  the  old  editions  until  some 
time  after  the  year  1609.  An  interesting  tradition  re- 
specting one  of  the  characters  in  this  tragedy  is  recorded 
in  1672  by  Dry  den,  who  observes  that  the  great  dramatist 
"showed  the  best  of  his  skill  in  his  Mercutio,  and  he  said 
himself  that  he  was  forced  to  kill  him  in  the  third  act, 
to  prevent  being  killed  by  him."  The  eminent  narrator  of 
this  little  anecdote  ingenuously  adds, — "but,  for  my  part, 
I  cannot  find  he  was  so  dangerous  a  person ; — I  see  noth- 
ing in  him  but  what  was  so  exceeding  harmless  that  he 
might  have  lived  to  the  end  of  the  play,  and  died  in  his 
bed,  without  offense  to  any  man." 

85 


Life  WIIXIAM 

A  severe  domestic  affliction  marred  the  pleasure  that  the 
author  might  otherwise  have  derived  from  his  last-men- 
tioned triumph.  His  only  son  Hamnet,  then  in  his  twelfth 
year,  died  early  in  August,  1596,  and  was  buried  at  Strat- 
ford-on-Avon  on  the  eleventh  of  that  month.  At  the  close 
of  the  year  the  poet  also  lost  his  uncle  Henry,  the  farmer 
of  Snitterfield,  during  the  same  Christmas  holidays  in 
which  his  company  had  the  honor  of  perfonning  on  two 
occasions  before  Queen  Elizabeth  at  Whitehall  Palace. 

No  positive  information  on  the  subject  has  been  re- 
corded, but  the  few  evidences  there  are  lead  to  the  belief 
that  the  Shakespeare  family  continued,  throughout  his 
life,  to  reside  in  the  poet's  native  town.  They  had  not 
accompanied  him  in  his  first  visit  to  the  m.etropolis,  and, 
from  the  circumstance  of  the  burial  of  Hamnet  at  Strat- 
ford-on-Avon,  it  may  be  confidently  inferred  that  they 
were  living  there  at  the  time  of  the  poor  youth's  decease. 
It  is  in  the  highest  degree  unlikely  that  they  could  have 
taken  up  an  abode  anywhere  else  but  in  London,  and  no 
hint  is  given  of  the  latter  having  been  the  case.  Let  it 
also  be  borne  in  mind  that  Shakespeare's  occupations  de- 
barred him  from  the  possibility  of  his  sustaining  even  an 
approach  to  a  continuous  domestic  life,  so  that,  when  his 
known  attachment  to  Stratford  is  taken  into  considera- 
tion, it  seems  all  but  certain  that  his  wife  and  children 
were  but  waiting  there  under  economical  cii'cumstances, 
perhaps  with  his  parents  in  Henley  Street,  until  he  could 
provide  them  with  a  comfortable  residence  of  their  own. 
Every  particular  that  is  known  indicates  that  he  admitted 
no  disgrace  in  the  irresponsible  persecution  which  occa- 
sioned his  retreat  to  London,  and  that  he  persistently 
entertained  the  wish  to  make  S'aatford  his  and  his  family's 

86 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

only  permanent  home.  This  desire  was  too  confirmed  to 
be  materially  affected  even  by  the  death  of  his  only  son, 
for,  shortly  after  that  event,  he  is  discovered  taking  a  fancy 
to  one  of  the  largest  houses  in  the  town,  and  becoming 
its  purchaser  in  the  following  year.  At  this  time,  1596, 
he  appears  to  have  been  residing,  when  in  town,  in  lodgings 
near  the  Bear  Garden  in  Southwark. 

There  is  preserved  at  the  College  of  Arms  the  draft  of 
a  grant  of  coat-armor  to  John  Shakespeare,  dated  in 
October,  1596,  the  result  of  an  application  made  no  doubt 
some  little  time  previously.  It  may  be  safely  inferred, 
from  the  unprospcrous  circumstances  of  the  grantee,  that 
this  attempt  to  confer  gentility  on  the  family  was  made  at 
the  poet's  expense.  This  is  the  first  evidence  that  we 
have  of  his  rising  pecuniary  fortunes,  and  of  his  deter- 
mination to  advance  in  social  position. 

Early  in  the  year  1597, — on  New  Year's  Day,  Twelfth 
Night,  Shrove  Sunday,  and  Shrove  Tuesday, — Shake- 
speai'e's  company  again  performed  before  the  Queen  at 
Whitehall.  In  the  summer  they  made  a  tour  through 
Sussex  and  Kent,  visiting  Faversham  and  Rye  in  August, 
and  acting  at  Dover  on  September  3.  In  their  progress 
to  the  latter  town,  he  who  was  hereafter  to  be  the  author 
of  Lear  might  have  witnessed,  and  been  impressed  with, 
the  samphire  gatherers  on  the  celebrated  rock  that  was 
afterwards  to  be  regarded  the  type  of  Edgar's  imaginary 
precipice.  By  the  end  of  the  month  they  had  quitted  the 
southern  counties,  and  traveled  westward  as  far  as  Bristol ; 
acting  about  the  same  time  at  Marlborough  and  Bath. 

In  the  spring  of  this  year  the  great  dramatist  made  his 
first  investment  in  realty  by  the  purchase  of  New  Place, 
consisting  of  a  mansion  and  nearly  an  acre  of  land  in  the 

87 


Life  WILLIAM 

center  of  the  town  of  Stratford-on-Avon.  The  estate 
was  sold  to  him  for  £60,  a  moderate  sum  for  so  con- 
siderable a  property,  but  in  a  paper  of  the  time  of  Edward 
VI  the  residence  is  described  as  having  then  been  for  some 
time  "in  great  ruyne  and  decay  and  unrepayred,"  so  that 
it  was  probably  in  a  dilapidated  condition  when  it  was 
transferred  to  Shakespeare.  There  are  reasons  for  be- 
lieving that  it  was  renovated  by  the  new  owner;  but  what- 
ever may  have  been  its  state  of  repair  at  the  time  of  its 
acquisition,  it  was  unquestionably  one  of  the  largest  domi- 
ciles in  the  town,  there  having  been  no  other,  with  the 
single  exception  of  the  College,  that  was  conspicuously 
more  important.  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,  for  whom  it  was 
erected,  speaks  of  it  in  1496  as  his  "great  house,"  a  title 
under  which,  as  it  will  be  observed  anon,  it  was  popularly 
known  at  Stratford  for  upwards  of  two  centuries.  Neither 
its  history  nor  its  magnitude  sufficed,  however,  to  attract 
the  serious  consideration  of  our  early  topographers,  and 
thus  it  is  that  scarcely  any  details  of  a  precise  character 
have  been  discovered  respecting  the  nature  of  the  house, 
one  which,  if  now  in-  existence,  would  have  been  the 
most  interesting  edifice  on  the  surface  of  the  globe.  We 
know  indeed,  that  it  -was  mainly  constructed  of  brick 
raised  on  stone  foundations,  that  it  Avas  gabled,  and  that 
there  was  a  bay-window  on  the  eastern  or  garden  side, 
but  little  beyond  tliis.  Two  eye-witnesses  only,  out  of 
the  numbers  who  had  seen  the  building  previously  to  its 
destruction,  have  left  memorials,  and  those  but  faint 
notices,  oT  its  appearance.  Leland,  who  wrote  about 
the  year  1540,  simply  describes  it  as  "a  praty  house  of 
bricke  and  tymbre,"  words  which  may  imply  either  that 
the  upper  part  was  formed  entirely  of  wood  or  that  there 

88 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

were  large  portions  of  bricknogging  in  the  outer  walls. 
Our  other  informant  was  a  native  of  Strutford-on-Avon, 
one  Richard  Grimmitt,  who  was  very  familiar  with  New 
Place  in  the  years   immediately   preceding  its  demolition, 
and  whose  old-age  dim  memory  of  the  locality  in  1767  is 
thus  recorded  by  the  Rev.  Joseph  Greene,  an  intelligent 
Warwickshire     antiquary     of    the     last     century, — "this 
Richard    said    he    in    his    youth    had    been    a    playfellow 
with    Edward    Clopton,    senior,    eldest    son    of    Sir   John 
Clopton,   knight,    and   had   been   often    with    him    in    the 
Great   House   near  the    Chapel   in    Stratford   call'd   New 
Place;  that,  to  the  best  of  his  remembrance,  there  was  a 
brick  wall  next  the  street,  with  a  kind  of  porch  at  that 
end  of  it  next  the  Chapel,  when  they  cross'd  a  small  kind 
of  green  court  before  they  enter'd  the  house,  which  was 
bearing  to  the  left  and  fronted  with   brick,   with   plain 
windows,  consisting  of  common  panes  of  glass  set  in  lead, 
as   at   this   time."     It   appears    from    this    statement   that 
the  main  entrance  was  then  in  Chapel-lane,  and  this  was 
no  doubt  the  case  at  a  much  earher  period,  arrangements 
of  that  kind  being  very  rarely   changed.     We  may   rest 
assured,   therefore,   that,   when   Ben   Jonson   or   Drayton 
visited  the   provincial   home    of   the   author   of    Twelfth 
Night,   he  would  an'ive  there   from  the   lane  through   a 
porched  gateway,  entering  in  front  of  the  lawn,  a  bam 
on  his  right  hand  and  the  house  on  the  left.     All  this 
is  in  consonance  with  what  is  known  respecting  the  sur- 
roundings   of    a    large    number    of    other    contemporary 
mansions.     "The  architecture  of  an  old  English  gentle- 
man's  house,"   observes   Aubrey,   alluding  to   the   Shake- 
spearean era,  "was  a  good  high  strong  wall,  a  gate-house, 
a  great  hall  and  parlor,  and  within  the  little  green  court 

89 


Life  WILLIAM 

where  you  come  in  stood  on  one  side  the  bame; — they 
then  thought  not  the  noise  of  the  threshold  ill  rausique," 
In  the  poet's  time  there  were  two  barns  on  the  Chapel- 
lane  side  of  New  Place  between  the  open  area  mentioned 
by  Grimmitt  and  the  eastern  termination  of  the  grounds, 
but  this  is  all  that  we  know  respecting  the  outbuildings, 
unless,  indeed,  there  can  be  included  under  the  latter  term 
an  ancient  well,  the  stone-work  of  which  yet  remains  in  a 
nearly  perfect  condition.  The  chief  fact  of  interest,  how- 
ever, in  the  personal  annals  of  this  year,  1597,  is  the  re- 
markable circumstance  that  Shakespeare,  after  leaving  his 
native  town  in  indigence  only  twelve  years  previously, 
should  now  have  been  enabled  to  become,  so  far  as  material 
advantages  were  concerned,  one  of  its  leading  inhabitants. 
However  limited  may  have  been  the  character  of  the 
poet's  visits  to  his  native  town,  there  is  no  doubt  that 
New  Place  was  henceforward  to  be  accepted  as  his  estab- 
lished residence.  Early  in  the  following  year,  on 
February  4,  1598,  corn  being  then  at  an  unprecedented 
and  almost  famine  price  at  Stratford-on-Avon,  he  is  re- 
turned as  the  holder  of  ten  quarters  in  the  Chapel  Street 
Ward,  that  in  which  the  newly  acquired  property  was 
situated,  and  in  none  of  the  indentures  is  he  described 
as  a  Londoner,  but  always  as  *'William  Shakespeare  of 
Stratford-on-Avon,  in  the  county  of  Warwick,  gentleman." 
There  is  an  evidence  in  the  same  direction  in  the  interest 
that  he  took  in  the  maintenance  of  his  grounds,  a  fact 
elicited  from  two  circumstances  that  are  worthy  of  record. 
It  appears  from  a  comparison  of  descriptions  of  parcels, 
1597  and  1602,  that  in  the  earlier  3'^ears  of  his  occupanc}'^, 
he  arranged  a  fruit-orchard  in  that  portion  of  his  garden 
which    adjoined    the    neighboring    premises    in     Chapel 

.90 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

Street.  Then  there  is  the  well-authenticated  tradition 
that,  in  another  locality  near  the  back  of  the  house,  he 
planted  with  his  own  hands  the  first  mulberry-tree  that 
had  ever  been  brought  to  Stratford-on-Avon.  The  date 
of  the  latter  occurrence  has  not  been  recorded,  but  it  may 
be  assigned,  with  a  high  degree  of  probability,  to  the 
spring  of  1609,  in  which  year  a  Frenchman  named  Verton 
distributed  an  immense  number  of  young  nmlberry  plants 
through  the  midland  counties  of  England.  This  novel 
arrangement  was  canned  out  by  the  order  of  James  I,  who 
vigorously  encouraged  the  cultivation  of  that  tree,  vainly 
hoping  that  silk  might  thence  become  one  of  the  staple 
productions  of  England. 

The  establishment  of  the  fruit-orchard  and  the  tradition 
respecting  the  mulberry-tree  are  the  only  evidences  which 
have  reached  us  of  any  sort  of  interest  taken  by  the  great 
dramatist  in  horticulture.  It  has,  indeed,  been  attempted 
to  prove  his  attachment  to  such  pursuits  by  various 
allusions  in  his  works,  but  no  inferences  as  to  his  personal 
tastes  can  be  safely  drawn  from  any  number  of  cognate 
references.  There  was,  no  doubt,  treasured  in  the  store- 
house of  his  perfect  memory,  and  ready  for  immediate 
use,  every  technical  expression,  and  every  morsel  of 
contemporary  popular  belief,  that  had  once  come  within 
Ills  hearing.  So  marvelous  also  was  Shakespeare's  all 
but  intuitive  perception  of  nearly  every  variety  of  human 
thought  and  knowledge,  the  result  of  an  unrivaled  power 
of  rapid  observation  and  deduction,  if  once  the  hazardous 
course  of  attempting  to  realize  the  personal  characteristics 
or  habits  of  the  author  through  his  writings  be  indulged 
in,  there  is  scarcely  an  occupation  that  he  might  not  be 
auspected  of  haviiig  adopted  at  one  period  or  other  of  his 

91 


Life  WILLIAM 

life.  That  he  was  famiHar  with  and  fondly  appreciated 
the  beauty  of  the  wild  flowers ;  that  he  was  acquainted 
with  many  of  the  cultivated  plants  and  trees;  that  he 
had  witnessed  and  understood  a  few  of  the  processes  of 
gardening ; — these  facts  may  be  admitted,  but  they  do 
not  prove  that  he  was  ever  a  botanist  or  a  gardener. 
Neither  are  his  numerous  allusions  to  Avild  flowers  and 
plants,  not  one  of  wliich  appears  to  be  peculiar  to 
Warwickshire,  evidences,  as  has  been  suggested,  of  the 
frequency  of  his  visits  to  Stratford-on-Avon.  It  would 
be  about  as  reasonable  to  surmise  that  he  must  have 
taken  a  journey  to  Elsinore  before  or  when  he  was 
engaged  on  the  tragedy  of  Hamlet,  as  to  adopt  the  oft- 
repeated  suggestion  that  the  nosegay  of  Perdita  could 
only  have  been  conceived  when  he  was  wandering  on 
the  banks  of  the  Avon.  To  judge  in  that  manner 
from  allusions  in  the  pla3's  it  might  be  inferred  that 
The  Winter''s  Tale  must  have  been  written  in  London, 
for  there  is  little  -probability  that  a  specimen  of  one 
of  the  flowers  therein  mentioned,  the  crown-imperial, 
could  have  been  then  seen  in  the  provinces,  whereas 
there  is  Gerard's  excellent  authority  that  it  had  "been 
brought  from  Constantinople  among  other  bulbus 
rootes,  and  made  denizons  in  our  London  gardens" 
(Herball,  ed.  1597,  p.  154).  All  inductions  of  this  kind 
must  be  received  with  the  utmost  caution.  ,  Surely  the 
poet's  memory  was  not  so  feeble  that  it  is  necessary  to 
assume  that  the  selection  of  his  imagery  depended  upon 
the  objects  to  be  met  with  in  the  locality  in  which  he  was 
writing.  Even  were  this  extravagant  supposition  to  be 
maintained,  no  conclusion  can  be  derived  from  it,  for  it  is 
not  probable  that  London  would  have  had  the  exclusive 

92 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

possession  of  any  cultivated  flower,  while  it  is  certain  that 
Stratford  liad  not  the  monopoly  of  every  wild  one.  It 
should  be  recollected  that  tho  line  of  demarcation  be- 
tween country  and  town  life  was  not  strongly  marked  in 
Shakespeare's  day.  The  great  dramatist  may  be  prac- 
tically considered  never  to  have  relinquished  a  country 
life  during  any  part  of  his  career,  for  even  when  in  the 
metropolis  he  must  always  have  been  within  a  walk  of 
green  fields,  woods  and  plant-bordered  streams,  and 
Avithin  a  few  steps  of  some  of  the  gardens  which  wore 
then  to  be  found  in  all  parts  of  London,  not  even  except- 
ing the  limited  area  of  the  city.  Wild  plants,  as  has 
been  previously  observed,  were  to  be  seen  in  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  of  the  Shoi'editch  theaters,  and  there  is 
perhaps  no  specimen  mentioned  by  Shakespeare  which 
was  not  to  be  met  with  in  or  near  the  metropohs ;  but 
even  were  this  not  the  case,  surely  the  fact  of  his  having 
resided  in  Warwickshire  during  at  least  the  first  eighteen 
years  of  his  hfc  is  sufficient  to  account  for  his  knowledge 
of  them.  Then  again  at  a  later  period  he  must,  in  those 
days  of  slow  and  leisurely  travel,  have  been  well  acquainted 
with  the  rural  hfe  and  natural  objects  of  many  other  parts 
of  the  country  which  were  traversed  by  him  when  the  mem- 
bers of  his  company  made  their  professional  tours,  and  with 
the  district  between  London  and  Stratford-on-Avou  he 
must  of  course  have  been  specially  familiar. 

The  metropolis  in  those  days  was  the  main  abode  of 
English  letters  and  refined  culture,  but  in  other  respects 
there  could  have  been  very  few  experiences  that  were 
absolutely  restricted  to  its  limits.  If  this  is  carefully 
borne  in  mind,  it  will  snve  us  from  falling  into  numerous 
delusions,  and,  among  others,  into  the  common  one  of 
Shk-l-5  93 


Life  WILLIAM 

fancying  that  Shakespeare  must  have  drawn  his  tavern- 
life  from  an  acquaintance  with  its  character  as  it  was 
exhibited  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames.  There  was  no 
more  necessity  for  him  to  have  traveled  from  London  in 
search  of  flowers  than  there  was  to  have  gone  there  for 
the, — "anon,  anon,  sir ;  score  a  pint  of  bastard  in  the 
•Half  Moon."  We  have,  indeed,  the  direct  testimony  of 
Harrison,  in  1586,  to  the  effect  that  the  metropolitan 
■were  then  inferior  to  many  of  the  provincial  hotels. 
There  Avas  certainly  at  least  one  inn  at  Stratford-on-Avon 
which  could  bear  comparison  in  essential  respects  with  any 
to  be  found  elsewhere  in  England.  The  Bear  near  the 
foot  of  the  bridge  possessed  its  large  hall,  its  nominated 
rooms  such  as  the  Lion  and  Talbot  chambers,  an  enormous 
quantit}^  of  house  linen,  a  whole  pipe  of  claret,  two  butts 
of  sack,  plenty  of  beer,  upwards  of  forty  tankards  of 
different  sizes,  and,  among  its  plate,  "one  goblet  of  silver, 
parcel-gilt."  The  last-named  vessel  need  not  be  converted 
into  the  prototype  of  the  one  used  by  Mrs.  Quickly  in  the 
Dolphin,  nor,  as  a  rule,  in  the  absence  of  palpable  evidence 
to  the  contrary,  are  there  grounds  for  believing  that  the 
great  dramatist  was  thinking  of  special  localities  when  he 
was  penning  his  various  allusions  or  characterizations. 

When  the  amazing  number  of  different  characters  in 
the  plays  of  Shakespeare  is  borne  in  mind,  it  is  curious 
that  he  should  have  left  so  few  traces  in  them  of  what  is 
exclusively  provincial.  There  are  yet  fewer,  if  any,  of 
language  or  customs  that  can  be  thought  to  be  absolutely 
peculiar  to  Stratford-upon-Avon,  but  examples  of  both 
are  frequently  to  be  met  with  that  may  fairly  be  supposed 
to  have  been  primarily  derived  from  the  poet's  local  ex- 
periences.    Among  these  is  the  expression, — aroint  thee, 

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SHAKESPEARE  Life 

witch! — one  that  is  so  rare  In  our  literature,  either  in  print 
or  manuscript,  that  the  combined  labors  of  philologists 
have  failed  to  produce  a  single  early  instance  of  its  use 
in  the  works  of  other  authors.  That  it  was,  however,  a 
familiar  phrase  in  Shakespeare's  time  with  the  lower  classes 
of  his  native  place,  is  apparent  from  one  of  the  town 
records.  It  is  there  narrated  how  one  Goodie  Bromlie,  in 
an  altercation  Avith  a  woman  named  Holder,  was  so  ex- 
ceedingly free-spoken  that  she  had  the  audacity  to  wind 
up  a  horrent  of  abuse  with  the  unseemly  execration, — arent 
the,  iiich!  There  is  no  doubt  that  Stratford  yielded 
many  another  unusual  expression, — many  a  quaint  obser- 
vation,— to  the  recollection  of  the  great  dramatist,  and  it 
is  just  possible  that  an  occasional  specimen  may  yet  be 
met  with  in  the  locality.  One  of  the  inhabitants,  so 
recently  as  the  year  1843,  was  put  into  stocks  for  intoxica- 
tion, and  a  passer-by,  asking  the  captive  how  he  liked  the 
discipline,  was  met  with  the  reply, — "I  beant  the  first  mon 
as  ever  were  in  the  stocks,  so  I  don't  care  a  farden  about 
it."  If  it  were  not  an  impossible  view  of  the  case,  it  might 
be  fancied  that  the  jovial  delinquent  had  been  travestying 
one  of  the  reflections  that  Richard  II  is  made  to  utter  in 
the  dungeon  of  Pomfret  Castle. 

Those  who  would  desire  to  reahze  the  general  appear- 
ance of  the  Stratford-on-Avon  of  the  poet's  days  must 
deplore  the  absence,  not  merely  of  a  genuine  sketch  of 
New  Place,  but  of  any  kind  of  view  or  engraving  of  the 
town  as  it  appeared  in  the  sixteenth  or  seventeenth  cen- 
turies. Its  aspect  must  then  have  been  essentially  different 
from  that  exhibited  at  a  subsequent  period.  Relatively  to 
ourselves,  Shakespeare  may  practically  be  considered  to 
have  existed  in  a  different  land,  not  more  tlian  glimpses  of 

95 


Life  WILLIAM 

the  real  nature  of  which  are  now  to  be  obtained  by  the  most 
careful  study  of  existing  documents  and  material  remains. 
Many  enthusiasts  of  these  times  who  visit  Stratford-on- 
Avon  are  under  the  delusion  that  they  behold  a  locality 
which  recalls  the  days  of  the  great  dramatist,  but,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  diffused  buildings,  scarcely  one  of  which 
is  precisely  in  its  original  condition,  there  is  no  resem- 
blance between  the  present  town  and  the  Shakespearean 
borough, — the  latter  with  its  medieval  and  Elizabethan 
buildings,  its  crosses,  its  numerous  barns  and  thatched 
hovels,  its  water-mills,  its  street  bridges  and  rivulets,  its 
mud  walls,  its  dunghills  and  fetid  ditches,  its  unpaved 
walks  and  its  wooden-spired  church,  with  the  common  fields 
reaching  nearly  to  the  gardens  of  the  Birth-Place. 
Neither  can  there  be  a  much  greater  resemblance  between 
the  ancient  and  modern  general  views  of  the  town  from 
any  of  the  neighboring  elevations.  The  tower  and  lower 
part  of  the  church,  the  top  of  the  Guild  Chapel,  a  few 
old  tall  chimneys,  the  course  of  the  river,  the  mill-dam, 
and  the  outlines  of  the  surrounding  hills,  would  be  nearly 
all  that  would  be  common  to  both  prospects.  There  were, 
however,  until  the  last  few  years,  the  old  mill-bridge,  which, 
excepting  that  rails  had  been  added,  preserved  its  Eliza- 
bethan form,  the  Cross-on-the-Hill,  and  the  Wier  Brake, 
the  two  latter  fully  retaining  their  original  character. 
Now,  alas,  a  hideous  railway  has  obliterated  all  trace  of  the 
picturesque  from  what  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  and 
charming  spots  in  Warwickshire. 

A  former  inhabitant  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  writing  in 
the  year  1759,  asserts  that  "the  unanimous  tradition  of 
this  neighborhood  is  that,  by  the  uncommon  bounty  of 
the   Earl  of  Southampton,  he  was   enabled  to   purchase 

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SHAKESPEARE  Life 

houses  and  land  at  Stratford."  According  to  Rowc, — 
"there  is  one  instance  so  singular  in  the  magnificence 
of  this  patron  of  Shakespeare's  that,  if  I  had  not  been 
assured  tliat  the  story  was  lianded  down  by  Sir  Wilham 
D'Avenant,  who  was  probably  very  well  acquainted  with 
his  affairs,  I  should  not  have  ventured  to  have  inserted; 
that  my  Lord  Southampton  at  one  time  gave  him  a 
thousand  pounds  to  enable  him  to  go  through  with  a  pur- 
chase which  he  heard  he  had  a  mind  to."  A  comparison  of 
these  versions  would  indicate  that,  if  the  anecdote  is  based 
on  truth,  the  gift  was  made  on  the  occasion  of  the  pur- 
chase of  New  Place  in  1597;  and  it  is  probable  that  it 
was  larger  than  the  sum  required  for  that  object,  although 
the  amount  named  by  Rowe  must  be  an  exaggeration. 
Unless  the  general  truth  of  the  story  be  accepted,  it  is 
difficult  to  believe  that  Shakespeare  could  have  obtained, 
so  early  in  his  career,  the  ample  means  he  certainly  pos- 
sessed in  that  and  the  following  year.  The  largest  emolu- 
ments that  could  have  been  derived  from  his  professional 
avocations  would  hardly  have  sufficed  to  have  accomplished 
such  a  result,  and  the  necessity  of  forwarding  continual 
remittances  to  Stratford-on-Avon  must  not  be  overlooked. 
It  was  not  until  the  year  1597  that  Shakespeare's  public 
reputation  as  a  dramatist  was  sufficiently  established  for  the 
booksellers  to  be  anxious  to  secure  the  copyright  of  his 
plays.  The  first  of  his  dramas  so  honored  was  the  suc- 
cessful and  popular  one  of  King  Richard  II,  which  was 
entered  as  a  tragedy  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers' 
Company  by  Andrew  Wise,  a  publisher  in  St.  Paul's 
Churchyard,  on  August  29,  1597.  In  the  impression 
heralded  by  this  entry  the  deposition  scene  was  omitted 
for  political  reasons,  objections  having  been  made  to  its 

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Life  WILLIAM 

introduction  on  the  public  stage,  and  it  was  not  inserted 
by  the  pubHshers  of  the  history  until  some  years  after  the 
accession  of  James.  Considering  the  small  space  that  it 
occupies  and  its  inoffensive  character,  the  omission  may 
appear  rather  singular,  but  during  the  few  years  that 
closed  the  eventful  reign  of  Elizabeth,  the  subject  of  the 
deposition  of  Richard  II  bore  so  close  an  analogy,  in  the 
important  respects  of  the  wishes  of  those  who  desired  a 
repetition  of  a  similar  occurrence,  it  was  an  exceedingly 
dangerous  theme  for  the  pen  of  contemporary  writers. 

One  of  the  most  popular  subjects  for  the  historical 
drama  at  this  period  was  the  story  of  Richard  III.  A 
piece  on  the  events  of  this  reign  had  been  acted  by  the 
Queen's  Company  in  or  before  the  month  of  June,  1594, 
but  there  Is  no  evidence  that  this  production  was  known 
to  the  great  dramatist.  The  earliest  notice  of  Shake- 
peare's  play  hitherto  discovered  is  In  an  entry  of  it  as 
a  tragedy  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company  in 
October,  1597,  and  it  was  published  by  Wise  in  the  same 
year.  The  historical  portions  are  to  a  certain  extent 
taken  from  More  and  Holinshed,  but  with  an  utter  de- 
fiance of  chronology,  the  Imprisonment  of  Clarence,  for 
instance,  preceding  the  funeral  of  Henry  VI.  There  are, 
also,  slight  traces  of  an  older  play  to  be  observed,  passages 
which  may  belong  to  an  inferior  hand,  and  incidents,  such 
as  that  of  the  rising  of  the  ghosts,  suggested  probably 
by  similar  ones  in  a  more  ancient  composition.  That  the 
play  of  King  Richard  III,  as  we  now  have  it,  is  essentially 
Shakespeare's,  cannot  admit  of  a  doubt;  but  as  little  can 
it  be  questioned  that  to  the  circumstance  of  an  anterior 
work  on  the  subject  having  been  used  do  we  owe  some 
of  its  weakness  and  excessively  turbulent  character.     No 

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SHAKESPEARE  Life 

copy  of  this  older  pla^'  is  known  to  exist,  but  one  brief 
speech  and  the  two  following  lines  have  been  accidentally 
preserved — "My  liege,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  is  ta'en, 
=  And  Banister  is  come  for  his  reward" — from  which  it 
is  clear  that  the  new  dramatist  did  not  hesitate  to  adopt 
an  occasional  line  from  his  predecessor,  although  he  en- 
tirely omitted  the  character  of  Banister.  Both  plays 
must  have  been  successful,  for,  notwithstanding  the  great 
popularity  of  Shakespeare's,  the  more  ancient  one  sus- 
tained its  ground  on  the  English  stage  until  the  reign  of 
Charles  I. 

Uick  Burbage,  the  celebrated  actor,  undertook  the 
character  of  Richard  III,  a  part  in  which  he  was  par- 
ticularly celebrated.  There  was  especially  one  telling 
speech  in  this  most  fiery  of  tragedies, — "a  horse !  a  horse ! 
my  kingdom  for  a  horse !" — which  was  enunciated  by  him 
with  so  much  vigor  and  effect  that  the  line  became  an 
object  for  the  imitation,  and  occasionally  for  the  ridicule, 
of  contemporary  w^riters.  The  speech  made  such  an  im- 
pression on  Marston  that  it  appears  in  his  works  not 
merely  in  its  authentic  form,  but  satirized  and  travestied 
into  such  lines  as, — "a  man !  a  man !  a  kingdom  for 
a  man"  {Scourge  of  Villanie,  ed.  1598) — "a  boate, 
a'  boate,  a  boate,  a  full  hundred  markes  for  a  boate" 
(Eastzcmrd  Hoe,  1605) — "a  foole,  a  foole,  a  foole,  my 
coxcombe  for  a  foole"  (Parasitaster,  1606).  Burbage 
continued  to  enact  the  part  of  Richard  until  his  death  in 
1619,  and  his  supremacy  in  the  character  lingered  for 
many  years  in  the  recollection  of  the  public ;  so  that 
Bishop  Corbet,  writing  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I,  and  giv- 
ing a  description  of  the  battle  of  Bosworth  as  narrated 
to  him  on  the  field  by  a  provincial  tavern-keeper,  tells  us 

99 


Life  WILLIAM 


that,  when  the  perspicuous  guide — "would  have  said,  King 
Richard  died,  ^  And  called,  a  horse !  a  horse !  he  Burbage 
cried." 

In  the  autumn  of  1597,  in  the  midst  of  the  incipient 
popularity    of    this    animated    drama,    John    and    Mary 
Shakespeare  filed  a  bill  in  Chancery  against  Lambert  for 
the  recovery  of  Asbies,  a  design  that  the  poet  must  have 
been   very    desirous   of   furthering   to   the   utmost   of   his 
ability.     It   is   most   likely   that  he   furnished   the   means 
for  the   prosecution   of   the    suit,   a   course   to    which   he 
would  have  been  impelled  not  merely  from  a  knowledge 
of  the  slender  resources  of  his  aged  parents,  but  also  from 
his  having,   as  his   mother's  heir,   so  large  a   prospective 
interest  in  the  success  of  the  litigation.     The  acquisition 
of  the  farm  had  now  become  a  matter  of  special  import- 
ance.    There    were   not   merely    the    associations   twining 
around  the  possession   of  a  family   estate  to   stimulate  a 
desire  for  its  restoration,  but  there  was  nearly  at  hand  a 
very  large  increase  in  its  annual  value  through  the  ter- 
mination of  a  lease  under  which  all  but  the  dwelling  was 
he'Jd  from  1580  to  1601  at  the  inadequate  rental  of  half 
a  quarter  of  wheat  and  half  a  quarter  of  barley.     Our 
knowledge  of  the  course  taken  by  the  plaintiffs  in  further- 
ance of  their  object  is  imperfect,  Lambert,  in  his  answer 
to  the  above-mentioned  bill,  declaring  that  another  one  of 
like  import  had  been  afterwards  exhibited  against  him  by 
John  Shakespeare  in  his  individual  capacity,  and  of  this 
independent    action    no    explanatory    records    have    been 
discovered.     The  mere  facts,  however,  of  the  last-named 
suit    having   been    instituted,    and    of    John    Shakespeare 
having    taken    out    two    commissions    under    it    for    the 
examination  of  witnesses,  show  that  there  was  a  tolerably 

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SHAKESPEARE  Life 

well-furnished  purse  at  his  disposal,  a  circumstance  which, 
unless  the  expense  were  borne  by  the  poet,  is  difficult  to 
reconcile  with  the  plaintive  appeal  of  his  wife  and  himself 
when  they  asked  the  Court  to  bear  in  mind  that  "the 
sayde  John  Lamberte  ys  of  greate  wealthe  and  abilitie, 
and  well  frended  and  alied  amongest  gentlemen  and  free- 
holders of  the  countrey  in  the  saide  countie  of  Warwicke, 
where  he  dwelleth,  and  your  saide  oratours  are  of  small 
wealthe,  and  verey  fewe  frends  and  alyance  in  the  saide 
countie."  The  terms  of  this  sample  of  legal  policy  must 
be  attributed  to  the  Counsel,  but  the  facts,  so  far  at  least 
as  they  affect  the  parents  of  the  great  dramatist,  were 
no  doubt  correctly  stated.  It  appears  that  the  suit  was  car- 
ried on  for  very  nearly  two  years,  publication  having  been 
granted  in  October,  1599,  but,  as  no  decree  is  recorded, 
it  is  all  but  certain  that  either  the  plaintiffs  retired  from 
the  contest  or  that  there  was  a  compromise  in  favor  of 
the  possession  of  the  land  by  the  defendants.  Had  it  been 
otherwise,  something  must  have  been  afterwards  heard  of 
the  Shakespearean  ownership  of  the  estate. 

Queen  Elizabeth  held  her  court  at  Whiteliall  in  the 
Christmas  holidays  of  1597,  and  among  the  plays  then 
performed  was,  on  December  26,  the  comedy  of  Love's 
Labor's  Lost,  printed  early  in  the  following  year,  1598, 
under  the  title  of, — A  Pleasant  Co-nceited  Comedie  called, 
Loues  labors  lost.  No  record  has  been  discovered  of  the 
time  at  which  this  drama  was  first  produced,  but  on  the 
present  occasion  it  had  been  "newly  corrected  and  aug- 
mented," that  Is  to  say,  it  had  received  some  additions 
and  improvements  from  the  hands  of  the  author,  but  the 
play  itself  had  not  been  re-written.  A  few  scraps  of  the 
original  version  of  the  comedy  have  been  accidentally  pre- 

101 


Life  WILLIAM 

ser\-ed,  and  are  of  extreme  interest  as  distinctly  exhibiting 
Shakespeare's  method  of  working  in  the  revision  of  a  play. 
Thus,  for  example,  the  following  three  lines  of  the  earlier 
drama, — 

"From  women's  eyes  this  doctrine  I  derive; 
They  are  the  ground,  the  books,  the  academes 
From  whence  doth  spring  the  true  Promethean  fire." 

are  thus  gracefully  expanded  in  the  corrected  version 
which  has  so  fortunately  descended  to  us, — 

"From  women's  eyes  this  doctrine  I  derive; 
They  sparkle  still  the  right  Promethean  fire; 
They  are  the  books,  the  arts,  the  academes. 
That  show,  contain,  and  nourish  all  the  world; 
Else  none  at  all  in  ought  proves  excellent." 

hcyve^s  Labor's  Lost  is  mentioned  by  Tofte  and  Meres 
in  1598,  and  was  no  doubt  successful  on  the  stage,  or  other- 
wise it  would  scarcely  have  been  revised  and  published. 
Burbage,  at  all  events,  had  a  high  opinion  of  the  comedy, 
for  when  the  company  to  which  the  author  belonged 
selected  it  for  a  contemplated  representation  before  Queen 
Anne  of  Denmark  at  Southampton  House  early  in  the 
year  1605,  he  observed  that  it  was  one  "which  for  wit  and 
mirth  will  please  her  exceedingly."  That  the  great  actor 
correctly  estimated  its  attractions  may  be  gathered  from 
its  being  performed  about  the  same  time  before  the  Court. 

The  Firt  Part  of  Henry  IV,  the  appearance  of  which 
on  the  stage  may  be  confidently  assigned  to  the  spring 
of  the  year  1597,  was  followed  immediately,  or  a  few 
months  aftenvards,  by  the  composition  of  the  second  part. 
It  is  recorded  that  both  these  plays  were  very  favorably  re- 
ceived by  Elizabeth,  the  Queen  especially  relishing  the 
character  of  Falstaff,  and  they  were  most  probably  among 

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SHAKESPEARE  Life 

the  dramas  represented  before  that  sovereign  in  tlie 
Christmas  holidays  of  1597-1598.  At  this  time,  or  then 
very  recently,  the  renowned  hero  of  the  Boar's  Head 
Tavern  liad  been  introduced  as  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  but  the 
Queen  ordered  Shakespeare  to  alter  the  name  of  tlic 
character.  This  step  was  taken  in  consequence  of  the 
representations  of  some  member  or  members  of  the  Cob- 
ham  family,  who  had  taken  offense  at  their  illustrious 
ancestor,  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  Lord  Cobham,  the  Protestant 
martyr,  being  disparagingly  introduced  on  the  stage ;  and, 
accordingly,  in  or  before  the  February  of  the  following 
year,  Falstaff  took  the  place  of  Oldcastle,  the  former  being 
probably  one  of  the  few  names  invented  by  Shakespeare. 

The  great  dramatist  himself,  having  nominally  adopted 
Oldcastle  from  a  character  who  is  one  of  Prince  Henry's 
profligate  companions  in  a  previous  di'ama,  a  composition 
which  had  been  several  years  before  the  public,  and  had 
not  encountered  effective  remonstrance,  could  have  had 
no  idea  that  his  appropriation  of  the  name  would  have 
given  so  much  displeasure.  The  subject,  however,  was 
viewed  by  the  Cobhams  in  a  very  serious  light.  This 
is  clearly  shown,  not  merely  by  the  action  taken  by  the 
Queen,  but  by  the  anxiety  exhibited  by  Shakespeare,  in 
the  epilogue  to  the  second  part,  to  place  the  matter 
beyond  all  doubt  by  the  explicit  declaration  that  there 
was  in  Falstaff  no  kind  of  association,  satirical  or  other- 
wise, with  the  martyred  Oldcastle.  The  whole  incident  is 
a  testimony  to  the  popularity  of,  and  the  importance  at- 
tached to,  these  dramas  of  Shakespeare's  at  their  first 
appearance,  and  it  may  be  fairly  questioned  if  any  comedy 
on  the  early  English  stage  was  more  immediately  or  en- 
thusiastically appreciated  than  was  the  First  Part  of  Henry 

105 


Life  WILLIAM 

IV.  Two  editions  of  the  latter  play  appeared  in  1598, 
and,  in  the  same  year,  there  were  quoted  from  it  passages 
that  had  evidently  already  become  familiar  household  words 
in  the  mouths  of  the  public.  Strangely  enough,  however, 
the  earliest  edition  that  bore  the  author's  name  on  the  title- 
page  was  not  published  till  the  following  year. 

The  inimitable  humor  of  FaistafF  was  appreciated  at 
the  Court  as  heartily  as  by  the  public.  The  Queen  was 
so  taken  with  the  delineation  of  that  marvelous  character 
in  the  two  parts  of  Henry  IV,  that  she  commanded  Shake- 
speare to  write  a  third  part  in  which  the  fat  knight 
should  be  exhibited  as  a  victim  to  the  power  of  love. 
Sovereigiis  in  the  olden  time,  especially  one  of  Elizabeth's 
temperament,  would  never  have  dreamed  of  consulting  the 
author  as  to  the  risk  of  the  selected  additional  passion 
not  harmonizing  with  the  original  conception.  Shake- 
speare's business  was  to  obey,  not  to  indulge  in  what  would 
have  been  considered  an  insolent  and  unintelligible  re- 
monstrance. His  intention  of  continuing  the  history  of 
the  same  Falstaff  in  a  play  on  the  subject  of  Henry  V  was, 
therefore,  abandoned,  and  thus  we  have,  in  the  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,  a  comedy  in  which  some  of  the  names 
are  adopted  from  the  previous  dramas,  but  the  natures  of 
the  characters  to  which  those  names  are  attached  are 
either  modified  or  altogether  transformed.  The  transient 
allusions  which  bring  the  latter  play  into  the  historical 
series  are  so  trivial  that  they  would  appear  to  have  been 
introduced  merely  out  of  deference  to  the  Queen's  ex- 
pressed wishes  for  a  continuation.  The  comedy  diverges 
in  every  other  respect  from  the  two  parts  of  Henry  /F, 
and  remains,  with  the  induction  to  the  Taming  of  the 

104 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

Shrew,  the  only  examples  m  the  works  of  Shakespeare  of 
absolute  and  continuous  representations  of  English  life  and 
manners  of  the  author's  own  time. 

There  is  an  old  tradition  which  avers  that  the  Merry 
Wives  of  Wiruhor  was  written,  at  the  desire  of  the  Queen, 
in  the  brief  space  of  a  fortnight,  and  that  it  gave  immense 
satisfaction  at  the   Court.     Nor  in  those  days   of  rapid 
dramatic   composition,  when  brevity   of  time   in   the  exe- 
cution of  such  work  was  frequently  part  of  an  ordinary 
theatrical   agreement,    could    such    a    feat   have   been    im- 
possible to  Shakespeare.     It  could  have  been  no  trouble 
to  him  to  write,  and  the  exceptional  celerity  of  his  pen 
is  recorded  by  several  of  hi»  friends.     Hence,  probably, 
are  to  be  traced  most  of  the  numerous  little  discrepancies 
which,  by  a  careful  analysis,  may  be  detected  throughout 
the  works  of  the  great  dramatist,  and  which  are  seen  per- 
haps more  conspicuously  in  this  play  than  in  most  of  the 
others.     Shakespeare  had  evidently,  as  a  writer,  neither 
a  topographical  nor  a  chronometrical  mind,  and  took  small 
care  to   avoid   inconsistencies   arising   from   errors   in   his 
dispositions   of   localities   and   periods   of   time;   provided 
always  of  course  that  such  oversights  were  not  sufficiently 
palpable  in  the  action  to  disturb  the  complete  reception 
of   the   latter   by    the   audience.     We    may    rest   assured 
that  the  poet,  when  engaged  in  dramatic  writing,  neither 
placed  before  his  eyes  an  elaborate  map  of  the  scenes  of 
the   plot;   nor   reckoned   the   exact   number    of   hours   to 
be  taken   by    a    character   in    moving    from    one   spot   to 
another;  nor,   in   the  composition   of  each   line   of  verse, 
repeated  the  syllables  to  ascertain  if  they  developed  the 
style  of  meter  it  was  his  duty  to  posterity  to  be  using  at 

105 


Life  WILLIAM 

that  special  period  of  liis  life.  Such  precautions  may  best 
be  indefinitely  resei-ved  for  the  use  of  that  visionary  per- 
sonage— a  scientific  and  arithmetical  Shakespeare. 

The  earliest  notice  of  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor^ 
hitherto  discovered,  is  in  an  entry  on  the  registers  of 
the  Stationers'  Company  bearing  date  in  January,  1602, 
in  which  year  a  catch-penny  publisher  surreptitiously 
issued  a  very  defective  copy,  one  made  up  by  some 
poetaster,  with  the  aid  of  short-hand  notes,  into  the  fonn 
of  a  play.  That  it  was  composed,  however,  before  the 
death  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  in  July,  1600,  may  be  safely 
taken  for  granted,  for  it  is  contrary  to  all  records  of 
Shakespeare's  nature  to  believe  that  the  more  than  play- 
ful allusions  it  contains  to  that  individual  would  have 
been  written  after  the  decease  of  Shallow's  prototype;  and 
most  probably  also  before  the  production  of  King  Henry 
V  in  the  summer  of  1559,  the  royal  command  being  the 
most  feasible  explanation  that  can  be  given  of  the  author's 
change  of  purpose  in  the  elimination  of  FalstafF  from  the 
action  of  the  latter  drama. 

The  Second  Part  of  Henry  IV  and  the  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor  are,  so  far  as  we  know,  the  only  dramas  of 
Shakespeare  that  are  in  any  way  connected  with  his  per- 
sonal history.  They  include  scenes  that  could  not  have 
been  written  exactly  in  their  present  form  if  the  great 
dramatist  had  not  entertained  an  acute  grudge  against 
Sir  Thomas  Lucy.  The  knight  of  Charlecote  was  to  be 
lampooned  on  the  stage,  then  by  far  the  most  effective 
medium  for  public  irrision,  and  hence  arose  the  necessity 
of  making  Falstaff  take  his  circuitous  journeys  to  the 
"old  pike's"  house  in  Gloucestershire,  to  a  locality  within 
reach  of  Stratford-on-Avon  and  Henley-in-Arden,  towns 

106 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

that  are  faintly  veiled  under  the  names  of  Stamford  and 
Hinckley.     Hence  also   the   direct  and  practically   undis- 
guised banter  of  the  Lucys  in  the  Merry  Wives,  for  no 
one    in    Warwickshire    could    possibly    have    mistaken   the 
allusion    to   the    luces,   the   fishes   othenvise   termed   pikes, 
that  held  so  conspicuous  a  position  in  the  family  shield; 
and  lience  the  rapidity  with  which  the  quarrel  with  Falstaff 
is  dismissed  after  the  object  of  its  introduction  had  been 
satisfied.     And  although  it  may  be   consistent   with   dra- 
matic possibilities  that  Shallow,  when  he  arrives  at  Wind- 
sor  on   a   mission   of   complaint   to   the   King,   should   be 
■welcomed  there  by   an   intimate   friend,  an   inhabitant  of 
that  town,  and  at  the  same  time  a  fellow-sportsman  on  the 
Cotswold, — one  may  be  pardoned  for  suspecting  that  the 
Gloucestershire  magistrate  would  not  have  been  transferred 
to  the  royal  borough  if  his  presence  had  not  been  required 
for  the  effective  illustration  of  the  Charlecote  escapade. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  there  is  sufficient  outside  the  region  of 
conjecture  to  enable  us  to  infer  that  the  poet  designed, 
in  his  satirical  notices  of  the  justice,  an  individual  as  well 
as  a  general  application,  and  where  could  the  listeners  be 
found   that   would   be    likely   to    appreciate   the    former.? 
Certainly  neither  in  London  nor  at  the   Court,  even  on 
the  very  unlikely  supposition  that  intelligence  of  the  deer- 
stealing  affair  had  reached  so  far,  for  Sir  Thomas's  public 
life,  at  the  earhest  date  at  which  either  of  the  comedies 
could  have  been  produced,  had  for  many  years  been  re- 
stricted to   the  midland   counties.      It   may,   therefore,  be 
assumed  that  the  great  dramatist  had  in  view  representa- 
tions of  his  pieces  that  he  knew  would  be  organized  at 
or  near  Stratford  after  the  termination  of  their  first  runs 
in   the   metropolis.     But    although    a   long-sustained   re- 

107 


Life  WILLIAM 

sentment,  under  conditions  of  special  insult  or  oppression, 
is  not  incompcatible  with  the  possession  of  an  essentially 
gentle  nature,   it   is   not   at   all   necessary   to   fancy   that 
Shakespeare  was  here  acting  in  the  mere  irrational  spirit 
of   retaliation.     The    owner   of  New    Place   had   a   social 
position   to   consolidate   in   his   native   town,   and  he  took 
the  best  means  of  neutralizing  a  vexatious  piece  of  scandal 
by  holding  up  to  local  ridicule  the  individual  whose  line 
of  treatment  had  attached  to  him  whatever  there  was  in 
the  matter  of  personal  degi'adation.     And  he  would  have 
been  encouraged  by  the  sympathy  of  the  many  who  de- 
tested Sir  Thomas's  fanatical  policy,  even  if  the  quarrel 
with  him  had  not  been  in  itself  a  passport  to  their  favor. 
The   news   of  the   perfomnance   would   somehow   or   other 
reach  the  ears  of  that  potentate,  who  would  naturally  have 
been  highly  incensed  at  the  unpardonable  liberty  that  had 
been  taken;  the  more  so  if,  as  it  would  appear,  he  was 
pecuHarly  sensitive  to  the  opinion  of  his  neighbors.     The 
flight  to  London  is  an  incontestable  evidence  that  Shake- 
speare had  no  dread  at  that  time  of  a  metropolitan  prosecu- 
tion, and  it  was  probably  now,  if  ever,  that  Sir  Thomas 
threatened  to   make  his   conduct,  even   at  that  late   day, 
the  subject   of  an   appeal  to  the   Star  Chamber.     Then 
would    have    followed    the    more    pointed    attack    in    the 
opening    scene    at    Windsor,    that    in    which    his    judicial 
dignities    and    his    coat-armor,    as    well    as    the    poaching 
adventure  itself,  are  so  mercilessly  caricatured.     It  is  not 
probable,    however,   that   the    entire    significance    of   that 
dialogue    will    ever    be    ascertained.     Much    that    is    now 
obscure    was    no    doubt    immensely    relished   by    the    con- 
temporary Stratfordians.      It  is  easy  to  imagine,  for  ex- 
ample, the  roars  of  laughter  that  might  have  greeted  the 

108 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

poet's  declaration  made  tlirough  Falstaff,  that  he  had  never 
kissed  the  keeper's  daughter,  if  so  be  that  the  lady  in 
question  had  chanced  to  have  been  one  of  nature's  scare- 
crows ;  and  who  will  venture  to  be  confident  that  there 
is  no  quaint  hidden  meanings  in  the  references  to  the 
salt  fish  and  the  old  coat?  And  again,  as  the  assiduous 
knight  never  appears  to  have  declined  an  invitation  to 
take  a  glass  of  wine,  it  is  very  likely  that  the  bacchanalian 
tournament  with  Silence  is  no  overdrawn  picture,  one, 
moreover,  that  would  have  been  thoroughly  enjoyed  in  a 
neighborhood  in  which  the  jovial  host  had  taken  an  active 
part  in  a  commission  for  the  reformation  of  tipplers. 

Exaggeration  is  one  of  the  legitimate  resources  of 
satirical  art,  and  that  it  has  largely  affected  the  dramatic 
portraiture  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  cannot  admit  of  a 
reasonable  doubt.  A  tolerable  degree  of  business  and 
even  of  administrative  capacit}^  is,  indeed,,  sometimes  to 
be  obsei'ved  in  men  of  no  great  wisdom,  but  there  are 
substantial  reasons  for  believing  that  Sir  Thomas  could 
not  have  been  the  precise  intellectual  counterpart  of 
Justice  Shallow.  This  may  be  gathered  from  a  perusal 
of  his  correspondence,  from  the  notices  of  his  parlia- 
mentary doings,  and,  so  far  as  marble  can  be  a  faithful 
guide  in  such  matters,  from  the  expression  of  his  features 
in  the  Charlecote  effigy,  the  only  authentic  likeness  of 
him  known  to  exist.  Neither  would  it  be  inferred  from 
that  memorial  that  he  could  have  been  correctly  repre- 
sented as  a  starveling,  but  here  allowance  must  be  made 
for  FalstafF's  imagery  having  been  in  a  great  measure 
dependent  upon  his  relative  estimate  of  the  standard  of 
personal  expanse.  That  there  was  much,  however,  of 
existing  personation  in  the  dramatic  character  and  sur- 

109 


Life  WILLIAM 

roundings  of  the  Gloucestershire  justice  that  would  have 
been  readily  interpreted  b}^  the  Stratford  audience  is  un- 
questionable. Although  our  supplies  of  iafonnation  on 
this  point  are  very  defective,  there  are  still  contemporary 
records  which  tell  us  of  the  special  interest  taken  by  Sir 
Thomas  in  the  details  of  archery,  of  the  hospitality  that 
was  the  order  of  his  mansion,  of  his  familiarity  with 
recruits  and  the  muster-roll,  of  the  antiquity  of  his  family, 
and,  above  all,  of  that  appreciation  of  "friends  at  court" 
through  whose  influence  he  contrived  to  bask  in  the  diver- 
gent sunshines  of  IMary  and  Elizabeth.  Nor  is  there  the 
least  reason  for  suspecting  that  his  violent  Protestantism, 
so  convenient  in  the  latter  reign,  was  in  any  way  connected 
with  an  asceticism  that  would  have  decried  the  stage  or 
excluded  a  festive  evening  with  a  brother  magistrate.  We 
know,  on  the  contrary,  that  he  was  the  patron  of  a  com- 
pany of  itinerant  actors,  and  that  he  had  an  intelligent 
estimate  of  the  virtues  of  sack.  Much,  indeed,  has  been 
said  of  his  dislike  to  the  Shakespeares  on  religious  grounds, 
but  there  is  really  nothing  to  warrant  such  an  assumption 
beyond  the  bare  and  inadequate  fact  that  he  served  on  a 
commission  under  which  the  poet's  father  was  named  in  a 
list  of  suspected  recusants. 

Two  plays,  the  titles  of  which  have  not  been  recorded, 
were  acted  by  Shakespeare's  company  in  the  early  part 
of  the  3^ear  1598,  the  poet  being  then  in  London.  It  is 
certain,  however,  that  his  thoughts  were  not  at  this  time 
absorbed  by  literature  or  the  stage.  So  far  from  this 
being  the  case  there  are  good  reasons  for  concluding 
that  they  were  largely  occupied  with  matters  relating  to 
pecuniary  affairs,  and  to  the  progress  of  his  influence  at 
Stratford-on-Avon.     He  was  then  considering  the  advisa- 

110 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

bility  of  purchasing  an  "odd  yard  land  or  other"  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  this  circumstance,  indicating  the 
possession  of  redundant  means,  becoming  known,  his 
friend,  Ridiard  Quiney,  who  was  in  the  metropohs,  was 
strongly  urged  both  in  English  and  Latin  to  suggest  to 
him  the  policy  of  trying  to  obtain  one  of  the  valuable 
tithe-leases,  and  to  name,  among  other  inducements, — 
"by  the  friends  he  can  make  therefore,  we  think  it  a 
fair  mark  for  him  to  shoot  at ; — it  obtained  would  advance 
him  in  deed  and  would  do  us  much  good,"  letter*  of 
Abraham  Sturley  dated  from  Stratford-on-Avon,  January 
24,  1598.  These  expressions  indicate  that  Shakespeare's 
desire  to  establish  a  good  position  for  himself  in  his 
native  town  was  well  known  to  his  provincial  friends. 

When  Shakespeare  was  meditating  the  purchase  of  the 
"odd  yard,"  that  is  to  sa}',  most  likely  rather  more  than 
forty  acres  of  land  or  thereabouts,  he  appears  to  have 
had  a  predilection  in  favor  of  Shottery,  a  hamlet  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  Stratford.  It  was  in  this 
village  that  he  is  generally  believed,  but  on  somewhat 
inconclusive  grounds,  to  have  met  with  his  future  wife, 
and  hence  has  arisen  the  inevitable  surmise  that  the  incli- 
nation in  favor  of  the  particular  investment  emanated 
from  recollections  of  the  days  of  courtship.  Some  of 
those  days  may,  indeed,  have  been  passed  in  that  locality, 
but  whether  this  be  the  case  or  no,  it  is  obvious,  from 
the  tenns  in  which  the  contemplated  acquisition  is  in- 
troduced that  he  was  desirous  of  becoming  one  of  the 
proprietors  of  its  open  fields.  These  latter,  which  were 
very  extensive,  comprising  altogether  about  sixteen 
hundred  acres,  have  long  been  enclosed,  while  there  is 
nothing  on  their  site,  and  little  in  their  vicinity,  to  recall 

111 


Life  WILLIAM 

the  Shottery  that  was  now  in  the  poet's  thoughts.  Most 
of  its  numerous  ancient  footpaths  have  been  suppressed; 
its  mud-walls  have  disappeared;  very  few  of  its  dwellings 
exhibit  outward  traces  of  genuine  Elizabethan  work,  and 
a  hideous  culvert  is  the  modem  substitute  for  what  was 
once  a  stepping-stone  passage  across  a  gurgling  brook. 
It  may  be  confidently  stated  that  there  is  only  one  of 
its  buildings  that  can  be  thought  to  have  retained  an 
approach  to  a  complete  preservation  of  its  original  external 
features,  a  farm-house  that  belonged  to  a  family  of  the 
name  of  Hathaway,  and  one  that  is  usually  considered 
to  be  the  birth-place  of  Shakespeare's  own  Anne.  But 
although  it  cannot  be  said  that  "the  report  of  her  is 
extended  more  than  can  be  thought  to  begin  from  such 
a  cottage,"  the  truthful  biographer  is  compelled  to  admit, 
in  my  case  more  than  reluctantly,  that  the  balance  of 
evidence  is  hardly  in  favor  of  the  attribution. 

It  was  natural  that  the  poet,  having  not  only  himself 
bitterly  felt  the  want  of  resources  not  so  many  years  pre- 
viously, but  seen  so  much  inconvenience  arising  from  a 
similar  deficiency  in  his  father's  household,  should  now 
be  determining  to  avoid  the  chance  of  a  recurrence  of  the 
infliction.  That  he  did  not  love  money  for  its  own  sake, 
or  for  more  than  its  relative  advantages,  may  be  gathered 
from  his  liberal  expenditure  in  after  life;  but  that  he 
had  the  wisdom  to  make  other  tastes  subservient  to  its 
acquisition,  so  long  as  that  course  was  suggested  by  pini- 
dence,  is  a  fact  that  cannot  fairly  be  questioned.  How- 
ever repugnant  it  may  be  to  the  flowery  sentiments  of  the 
cesthetic  critics,  no  doubt  can  arise,  in  the  minds  of  those 
who  will  listen  to  evidence,  that  when  Pope  asserted  that — 

112 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

Shakespeare,  whom  you  and  ev'ry  playhouse  bill 
Style  the  divine,  the  matchless,  what  you  will, 
For  gain,  not  glory,  wing'd  his  roving  flight, 
And  grew  immortal  in  his  own  despiglit. 

he  not  only  expressed  the  traditional  belief  of  his  own 
day,  but  one  which  later  researches  have  unerringly 
verified.  With  all  Shakespeare's  gentleness  of  disposi- 
tion and  amiable  qualities,  it  is  evident  from  the  records 
that  there  was  very  little  of  the  merely  sentimental  in  his 
nature;  that  is  to  say,  of  such  matters  as  a  desire  for 
posthumous  fame,  or  the  excitable  sympathy  which  is  so 
often  recklessly  appeased  without  thought  of  results.  In 
the  year  now  under  consideration,  1598,  he  appears  not 
only  as  an  advancer  of  money,  but  also  one  who  nego- 
tiated loans  through  other  capitalists. 

The  comedy  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  the  plot  of 
which  was  either  grounded  on  that  of  an  older  drama, 
or  fonned  out  of  tales  long  familiar  to  the  public,  was 
represented  with  success  in  London  in  or  before  the  month 
of  July,  1598.  It  then  had  another  title,  being  "other- 
wise called  The  Jew  of  Venice,"  and  a  bookseller  named 
Roberts  was  anxious  to  secure  the  copyright,  but  the  regis- 
trars of  Stationers'  Hall  withheld  their  consent  until  he 
had  obtained  the  sanction  of  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  in 
other  words,  that  of  the  author  and  his  colleagues;  and 
upwards  of  two  years  elapsed  before  the  earliest  editions 
of  the  comedy  appeared.  It  continued  for  a  long  time  to 
be  one  of  the  acting  plays  of  Shakespeare's  company,  and, 
as  lately  as  1605,  it  attracted  the  favorable  notice  of  James 
I,  who  was  so  much  pleased  with  one  performance  that  he 
ordered  a  repetition  of  it  two  days  afterward. 

One   of   the   most   interesting    of   the  recorded   events 

113 


Life  WILLIAM 

of  Shakespeare's  life  occurred  in  the  present  year.  In 
September,  1598,  Ben  Jonson's  famous  comedy  of 
Ei>ery  Man  in  his  Humor  was  produced  by  the  Lord 
Chamberlain's  company,  and  there  is  every  probabihty 
that  botli  writer  and  manager  were  indebted  for  its 
acceptance  to  the  sagacity  of  the  great  dramatist,  who 
was  one  of  the  leading  actors  on  the  occasion.  "His 
acquaintance  with  Ben  Jonson,"  observes  Rowe,  "began 
with  a  remarkable  piece  of  humanity  and  good  nature; 
Mr.  Jonson,  who  was  at  that  time  altogether  unknown  to 
the  world,  had  offered  one  of  his  plays  to  the  players  in 
order  to  have  it  acted,  and  the  persons  into  whose  hands 
it  was  put,  after  having  turned  it  carelessly  and  super- 
ciliously over,  were  just  upon  returning  it  to  him  with  an 
ill-natured  answer  that  it  would  be  of  no  service  to  their 
company,  when  Shakespeare  luckily  cast  his  eye  upon  it, 
and  found  something  so  well  in  it  as  to  engage  him  first 
to  read  it  through,  and  afterwards  to  recommend  Mr. 
Jonson  and  his  writings  to  the  public."  The  statement 
that  Rare  Ben  was  then  absolutely  new  to  literature  is 
certainly  erroneous,  however  ignorant  the  Burbages  or 
their  colleagues  may  have  been  of  his  primitive  efforts; 
but  he  was  in  a  state  of  indigence,  rendering  the  judgment 
on  his  manuscript  of  vital  consequence,  and  the  services 
of  a  friendly  advocate  of  inestimable  value.  He  had 
been  engaged  in  dramatic  work  for  Henslowe  some  months 
before  the  appearance  of  the  new  comedy,  but  about  that 
time  there  seems  to  have  been  a  misunderstanding  between 
them,  the  latter  alluding  to  Jonson  simply  as  a  brick- 
layer, not  as  one  of  his  company,  in  his  record  of  the  un- 
fortunate duel  with  Gabriel.  There  had  been,  in  all 
probability,  a  theatrical  disturbance  resulting  in  the  last- 

114 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

named  event,  and  in  Ben's  temporary  secession  from  tlie 
Rose.  Then  there  are  the  words  of  Jonson  himself,  who, 
unbiased  by  the  recollection  that  he  had  been  defeated 
in,  at  all  events,  one  literary  skirmish  with  the  great 
dramatist,  speaks  of  him  in  language  that  would  appear 
hyperbolical  had  it  not  been  sanctioned  by  a  feeling  of 
gratitude  for  a  definite  and  important  service, — "I  loved 
the  man  and  do  honor  his  memory,  on  this  side  idolatry, 
as  much  as  any."  This  was  a  personal  idolatry,  not  one 
solely  in  reference  to  his  works,  moderately  adverse  criti- 
cisms upon  which  immediately  follow  the  generous  pane- 
gyric. It  may,  then,  fairly  be  said  that  the  evidences  at 
our  disposal  favor,  on  the  whole,  the  general  credibility  of 
the  anecdote  narrated  by  Rowe. 

In  the  same  month  in  which  Shakespeare  was  acting 
in  Ben  Jonson's  comedy, — September,  1598, — there  ap- 
peared in  London  the  Palladis  Tamia,  a  work  that  con- 
tains more  elaborate  notices  of  the  great  dramatist  than 
are  elsewhere  to  be  found  in  all  contemporary  literature. 
Its  author  was  one  Francis  Meres,  a  native  of  Lincolnshire, 
who  had  been  educated  at  Cambridge,  but  for  some  time 
past  resident  in  the  metropolis.  Although  his  studies 
were  mostly  of  a  theological  character,  he  was  interested 
in  all  branches  of  literature,  and  had  foi*med  intimacies 
with  some  of  its  chief  representatives.  He  had  been  fa- 
vored with  access  to  the  unpublished  writings  of  Drayton 
and  Shakespeare,  and  had  either  seen  a  manuscript,  or 
witnessed  a  representation,  of  Rare  Ben's  earliest  tragedy. 
In  tlie  important  enumeration  of  Shakespeare's  plays  given 
by  Meres,  four  of  them, — The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona, 
Love  Labors  Won,  The  Midsummer  Night's  Dreojti,  and 
King  John, — are  mentioned  for  the  first  time.     There  can 

115 


Life  WILLIAM 

be  no  doubt  that  the  first  of  these  dramas  had  been  written 
some  years  previously,  and  Love  Labors  Won,  a  production 
which  is  nowhere  else  alluded  to,  is  one  of  the  numerous 
works  of  that  time  which  have  long  since  perished,  unless 
its  graceful  appellation  be  the  original  or  a  secondary 
title  of  some  other  comedy.  Neither  King  John  nor  The 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  was  printed  during  the  author's 
lifetime,  but  two  editions  of  The  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  appeared  in  the  year  1600.  This  last-mentioned 
circumstance  indicates  the  then  popularity  of  that  exquisite 
but  singular  drama,  the  comic  scenes  of  which  appear  to 
have  been  those  specially  rehshcd  by  the  public.  One 
little  fragment  of  the  contemporary  stage  humor,  dis- 
played in  the  representation  of  this  play,  has  been  recorded. 
When  Thisbe  killed  herself,  she  fell  on  the  scabbard,  not 
on  the  trusty  sword,  the  interlude  doubtlessly  having  been 
acted  in  that  spirit  of  extreme  farce  which  was  naturally 
evolved  from  the  stupidity  and  nervousness  of  the  clowns. 
It  is  in  the  Palladis  Tamia,  1598,  that  we  first  hear  of 
those  remarkable  productions,  the  Sonnets.  "As  the  soul 
of  Euphorbus,"  observes  Meres  in  that  quaint  collection 
of  similitudes,  "was  thought  to  live  in  Pythagoras,  so 
the  sweet  witty  soul  of  Ovid  lives  in  mellifluous  and  honey- 
tongued  Shakespeare;  witness  his  Venus  and  Adonis,  his 
Lucrece,  his  sugared  Sonnets  among  his  private  friends," 
etc.  These  last-mentioned  dainty  poems  were  clearly  not 
then  intended  for  general  circulation,  and  even  transcripts 
of  a  few  were  obtainable  with  difficulty.  A  publisher 
named  Jaggard  who,  in  the  following  year,  1599,  at- 
tempted to  form  a  collection  of  new  Shakesperean  poems, 
did  not  manage  to  obtain  more  than  two  of  the  Sonnets. 
The  words  of  Meres,  and  the  insignificant  result  of  Jag- 

116 


s^ 


> 


I 

-a 


cfl 


V 


H 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

gard's  efforts,  when  viewed  in  connection  witli  the  nature 
of  these  strange  poems,  lead  to  the  inference  tliat  some  of 
tJiem  were  written  in  clusters,  and  others  as  separate  exer- 
cises, either  being  contributions  made  by  their  writer  to  the 
albums  of  his  friends,  probably  no  two  of  the  latter  being 
favored  with  identical  compositions.  There  was  no  tra- 
dition adverse  to  a  behef  ifi  their  fragmentary  character 
in  the  generation  inmiediately  following  the  author's 
death,  as  may  be  gathered  from  the  arrangement  found 
in  Benson's  edition  of  1640 ;  and  tliis  concludes  the  little 
real  evidence  on  the  subject  that  has  descended  to  us. 
It  was  reserved  for  the  students  of  the  last  century,  who 
have  ascertained  so  much  respecting  Shakespeare  that  was 
unsuspected  by  his  own  friends  and  contemporaries,  to 
discover  that  his  innermost  earnest  thoughts,  his  mental 
conflicts,  and  so  on,  are  revealed  in  what  would  then  be 
the  most  powerful  lyrics  yet  given  to  the  world.  But 
the  victim  of  spiritual  emotions  that  involve  criminatory 
reflections  does  not  usually  protrude  them  voluntarily  on 
the  consideration  of  society;  and,  if  the  personal  theory 
be  accepted,  we  must  concede  the  possibility  of  our 
national  dramatist  gratuitously  confessing  his  sins  and 
revealing  those  of  others,  proclaiming  his  disgrace  and 
avowing  his  repentance,  in  poetical  circulars  distributed 
by  the  delinquent  himself  among  his  most  intimate  friends. 
There  are  no  external  testimonies  of  any  description 
in  favor  of  a  personal  application  of  the  Sonnets,  while 
there  are  abundant  difficulties  arising  from  the  reception 
of  such  a  theory.  Among  the  latter  is  one  deserving 
of  special  notice,  for  its  investigation  will  tend  to  remove 
the  displeasing  interpretation  all  but  universally  given  of 
two  of  the  poems,  those  in  which  reference  is  supposed 
Shk-l-C  117 


Life  WILLIAM 

to  be  made  to  a  bitter  feeling  of  personal  degradation 
allowed  by  Shakespeare  to  result  from  his  connection 
with  the  stage.  Is  it  conceivable  that  a  man  who 
encouraged  a  sentiment  of  this  nature,  one  which  must 
have  been  accompanied  with  a  distaste  and  contempt  for 
his  profession,  would  have  remained  an  actor  years  and 
years  after  an3f  real  necessity  for  such  a  course  had 
expired?  By  the  spring  of  1602  at  the  latest,  if  not 
previously,  he  had  acquired  a  secure  and  definite  com- 
petence independently  of  his  emoluments  as  a  dramatist, 
and  yet,  eight  years  afterwards,  in  1610,  he  is  discovered 
playing  in  company  with  Burbage  and  Hemmings  at  the 
Blackfriars  Theater.  •  When,  in  addition  to  this  voluntary 
long  continuance  on  the  boards,  we  bear  in  mind  the  vivid 
interest  in  tlie  stage,  and  in  the  purity  of  the  acted  drama, 
which  is  exhibited  in  the  well-known  dialogue  in  Hamlet, 
and  that  the  poet's  last  wishes  included  affectionate 
recollections  of  three  of  his  fellow-players,  it  is  difficult 
to  believe  that  he  could  have  nourished  a  real  antipathy 
to  his  lower  vocation.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  to  be 
inferred  that,  however  greatly  he  may  have  deplored  the 
unfortunate  estimation  in  which  the  stage  was  held  by 
the  imm.ense  majority  of  his  countrymen,  he  himself  en- 
tertained a  love  for  it  that  was  too  sincere  to  be  repressed 
by  contemporary  disdain.  If  there  is,  among  the  de- 
fective records  of  the  poet's  life,  one  feature  demanding 
special  respect,  it  is  the  unflinching  courage  with  which, 
notwithstanding  his  desire  for  social  position,  he  braved 
public  opinion  in  favor  of  a  continued  adherence  to 
that  which  he  felt  was  in  itself  a  noble  profession,  and 
this  at  a  time  when  it  was  not  merely  despised,  but  sur- 

118 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

rounded  by  an  aggressive  fanaticism  that  prohibited  its 
exercise  even  in  his  own  native  town. 

These  considerations  may  suffice  to  eliminate  a  personal 
application  from  the  two  sonnets  above  mentioned,  and  as 
to  the  remainder,  if  the  only  safe  method,  that  of  discard- 
ing all  mere  assumptions,  be  strictly  followed,  the  clearer 
the  ideality  of  most  of  them,  and  the  futility  of  arguments 
resting  on  any  other  basis,  will  be  perceived.  It  will  be 
observed  that  all  the  hypotheses,  which  aim  at  a  complete 
biographical  exposition  of  the  Sonnets,  necessitate  the  ac- 
ceptance of  interpretations  that  are  too  subtle  for  dis- 
passionate reasoners.  Even  in  the  few  instances  where 
there  is  a  reasonable  possibility  that  Shakespeare  was 
thinking  of  living  individuals,  as  when  he  refers  to  an 
unknown  poetical  rival  or  quibbles  on  his  own  Christian 
name,  scarcely  any,  if  any,  light  is  thrown  on  his  personal 
feelings  or  character.  In  the  latter  case,  it  is  a  mere 
assumption  that  the  second  Will  is  the  youth  of  the 
opening  series,  or,  at  least,  that  position  cannot  be  sus- 
tained without  tortuous  interpretations  of  much  which  is 
found  in  the  interval.  With  respect  to  other  suggested 
personal  revelations,  such  as  those  which  are  thought 
to  be  chronicled  in  Shakespeare's  addresses  to  the 
dark-eyed  beauty  of  more  than  questionable  reputation, 
— unless,  with  a  criminal  indifference  to  the  risk  of  the 
scandal  traveling  to  the  ears  of  his  family,  he  had 
desired  to  proclaim  to  his  acquaintances  his  own  infi- 
delity and  folly, — he  might,  perhaps,  have  repeated  the 
words  of  the  author  of  Lic'm,  who  published  his  own  son- 
nets in  the  year  1593,  and  thus  writes  of  their  probable 
effects, — "for  the  matter  of  love,   it  may   bee   I   am   so 

119 


Life  WILLIAM 

devoted  to  some  one,  into  whose  hands  these  may  Hght 
by  chance,  that  she  may  say,  which  thou  nowe  saiest, 
that  sureHe  he  is  in  love,  which  if  she  doe,  then  have  I 
the  full  recompence  of  my  labour,  and  the  poems  have 
dealt  sufficientlie  for  the  discharge  of  their  owne  duetie." 
The  disguise  of  the  ideal  under  the  personal  was  then, 
indeed,  an  ordinary  expedient. 

In  the  Christmas  holidays  'of  1598-1599,  three  plays, 
one  of  them  in  all  probability  having  been  the  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,  were  acted  by  Shakespeare's  com- 
pany before  the  Queen  at  Whitehall,  after  which  they 
do  not  appear  to  have  performed  at  Court  until  the 
following  December,  an  the  26th  of  which  month  they 
were  at  Richmond  Palace.  The  poet's  distinguished 
friend.  Lord  Southampton,  was  in  London  in  the  autumn 
of  this  year,  and  no  doubt  favored  more  than  one  theater 
with  his  attendance.  In  a  letter  dated  October  11,  1599, 
his  lordship  is  alluded  to  as  spending  his  time  "merrily 
In  going  to  plays  every  day." 

In  March,  1599,  the  Earl  of  Essex  departed  on  his 
ill-starred  expedition  to  Ireland,  leaving  the  metropolis 
amid  the  enthusiastic  cheers  of  the  inhabitants.  He 
was  then  the  most  popular  man  in  all  England,  hosts 
of  the  middle  and  lower  classes  regarding  him  as  their 
chief  hope  for  the  redress  of  their  grievances.  At  some 
time  in  May  or  June,  while  the  suppression  of  the  Irish 
was  considered  in  his  able  hands  a  mere  work  of  time, 
Shakespeare  completed  his  play  of  King  Henry  the  Fifth, 
taking  the  opportunil}^  of  introducing  in  it  a  graceful 
compliment  to  the  Earl,  in  terms  which  indicate  that 
the  poet  himself  sympathized  with  the  thousands  of 
Londoners    who    fondly    expected    hereafter    to    welcome 

120 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

his  victorious  return  to  England.  Independently,  how- 
ever, of  his  appreciation  of  Essex,  it  was  natural  that 
the  great  dramatist  should  have  taken  a  special  interest 
in  the  course  of  affairs  in  Ireland,  his  great  patron  and 
friend,  Lord  Southampton,  holding  the  distinguished 
position  of  General  of  the  Horse  in  the  Earl's  army. 
There  is  no  record  of  this  drama  in  the  year  of  its 
composition,  but  there  is  little  or  rather  no  doubt  that 
it  was  produced  on  the  diminutive  boards  of  the  Curtain 
Theater  in  the  summer  of  1599.  It  was  favorably  re- 
ceived and  the  character  of  Pistol  appears  to  have  been 
specially  relished  by  the  audiences.  In  or  before  the 
August  of  the  following  year,  1600,  an  unsuccessful 
attempt  was  made  to  obtain  a  license  for  its  publication, 
but  the  only  copy  of  it,  printed  in  the  author's  lifetime, 
was  a  miserably  imperfect  and  garbled  one  which  was 
surreptitiously  published  about  that  time  by  ]Millington 
and  Busby,  and  transferred  by  them  very  soon  afterwards 
to  Thomas  Pavier,  the  latter"  reprinting  this  spurious 
edition  in  1602  and  1608.  It  is  curious  that  Pavier, 
who  was  so  unscrupulous  in  other  instances  in  the  use 
of  Shakespeare's  name,  should  have  refrained  from  plac- 
ing it  on  the  title-pages  of  any  of  those  impressions. 
There  are  unequivocal  indications  that  the  edition  of  1600 
was  fraudulently  printed  from  a  copy  made  up  from  notes 
taken  at  the  theater. 

Toward  the  close  of  this  year,  1599,  a  renewed  at- 
tempt was  made  by  the  poet  to  obtain  a  grant  of  coat- 
armor  to  his  father.  It  was  now  proposed  to  impale  the 
arms  of  Shakespeare  with  those  of  Arden,  and  on  each 
occasion  ridiculous  statements  were  made  respecting  the 
claims  of  the  two  families.     Both  were  really  descended 


Life  WILLIAM 

from  obscure  English  country  yeomen,  but  the  heralds 
made  out  that  the  predecessors  of  John  Shakespeare  were 
rewarded  by  the  Crown  for  distinguished  services,  and  that 
his  wife's  ancestors  were  entitled  to  armorial  bearings. 
Although  the  poet's  relatives  at  a  later  date  assumed  his 
right  to  the  coat  suggested  for  his  father  in  1596,  it 
does  not  appear  that  either  of  the  proposed  grants  was 
ratified  by  the  college,  and  certainly  nothing  more  is 
heard  of  the  Arden  impalement. 

The  Sonnets,  first  mentioned  in  the  previous  year,  are 
now    again    brought    into    notice.     They    had    evidently 
obtained  a  recognition  in  literary  circles,  but  restrictive 
suggestions  had  possibly  been  made  to  the  recipients,  for, 
as   previously    observed,   when   Jaggard,    in    1599,    issued 
a  tiny  volume  under  the  fanciful  title  of  The  Passionate 
Pilgrim,  he  was  apparently  not  enabled  to   secure  more 
than  two  of  them.     These  are  in  the  first  part  of  the  book, 
the   second   being   entitled   Sonnets   to   Sundry   Notes   of 
Music,    but    Shakespeare's   name    is    not    attached    to    the 
latter    division.     The   publisher   seems    to    have   had    few 
materials    of   any    description    that    he    could    venture   to 
insert  under  either  title,  for,  in  order  to  make  something 
like    a    book    with    them,    he    adopted    the    very    unusual 
course  of  having  nearly  the  whole   of  the  tract  printed 
upon  one  side  only  of  each  leaf.     Not  keeping  a  shop,  he 
entrusted  the  sale  to  Leake,  who  was  then  the  owner  of 
the  copyright  of  Venus  and  Adonis,  and  who  published 
an  edition  of  that  poem  in  the  same  year,  the  two  little 
volumes   no  doubt  being   displayed   together  on   the   stall 
of  the  latter  at  the  Greyhound  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard. 
With   the   exception    of   the   two    sonnets    above    alluded 
to,  and  a  few  verses  taken  from  the  already   published 

122 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

comedy  of  Lozfe's  Lahor^s  Lost,  Jaggard's  collection 
does  not  include  a  single  line  that  can  be  positively 
ascribed  to  the  pen  of  the  great  dramatist,  but  much 
that  has  been  ascertained  to  have  been  the  composition 
of  others.  The  entire  publication  bears  evident  marks 
of  an  attempted  fraud,  and  it  may  well  be  doubted  if 
any  of  its  untraced  contents,  with  perhaps  three  excep- 
tions, justify  the  announcement  of  the  title-page.  The 
three  pieces  alluded  to  are  those  on  the  subject  of  Venus 
and  Adonis,  and  these,  with  the  beautiful  little  poem  called 
The  Lover^s  Complaint,  may  be  included  in  the  significant 
et  cetera  by  which  IMeres  clearly  implies  that  Shakespeare 
was  the  author  of  other  poetical  essays  besides  those  which 
he  enumerates. 

It  is  extremely  improbable  that  Shakespeare,  in  that 
age  of  small  London  and  few  publishers,  could  have 
been  ignorant  of  the  use  made  of  his  name  in  the  first 
edition  of  the  Passionate  P'dgrifin..  Although  he  may, 
however,  have  been  displeased  at  Jaggard's  unwarrantable 
conduct  in  the  matter,  it  appears  that  he  took  no  strenu- 
ous measures  to  induce  him  to  disavow  or  suppress  the 
ascription  in  the  title-page  of  that  work.  There  was,  it  is 
true,  no  legal  remedy,  but  there  is  reason  for  believing  that, 
in  this  case,  at  least,  a  personal  remonstrance  would  have 
been  effective.  Chving,  perhaps,  to  the  apathy  exhibited 
b}'  Shakespeare  on  this  occasion,  a  far  more  remarkable 
operation  in  the  same  kind  of  knavery  was  perpetrated 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  following  year  by  the  publisher 
of  the  First  Part  of  the  Life  of  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  1600, 
a  play  mainly  concerned  with  the  romantic  adventures 
of  Lord  Cobham.  Although  this  drama  is  known  not 
only  to  have  been  composed  by  other  dramatists,  but  also 

123 


Life  WILLIAM 

to  have  belonged  to  a  theatrical  company  with  whom 
Shakespeare  had  then  no  manner  of  connection,  it  was 
unblushinglj  announced  as  his  work  by  the  publisher, 
Thomas  Pavier,  a  shifty  bookseller,  residing  at  the 
grotesque  sign  of  the  Cat  and  Parrots  near  the  Royal 
Exchange.  Two  editions  were  issued  in  the  same  year 
by  Pavier,  the  one  most  largely  distributed  being  that 
which  was  assigned  to  the  pen  of  the  great  dramatist,  and 
another  to  which  no  writer's  name  is  attached.  As  there 
are  no  means  of  ascertaining  which  of  these  editions  is 
the  first  in  order  of  publication,  it  is  impossible  to  say 
with  certainty  whether  the  introduction  of  Shakespeare's 
name  was  an  afterthought,  or  if  it  were  withdrawn  for 
a  special  reason,  perhaps  either  at  his  instigation  or  at 
that  of  the  real  authors.  It  is  most  likely,  however,  that 
the  anonymous  impression  was  the  first  that  was  published, 
that  the  ascribed  edition  was  the  second,  and  that  there 
was  no  cancel  of  the  poet's  name  in  either. 

The  most  celebrated  theater  the  world  has  ever  seen 
was  now  to  receive  a  local  habitation  and  a  name.  The 
wooden  structure  belonging  to  the  Burbages  in  Shoreditch 
had  fallen  into  desuetude  in  1598,  and,  very  early  in  1599, 
they  had  pulled  it  down  and  removed  the  materials  to 
Southwark,  using  them  in  the  erection  of  a  new  building 
which  was  completed  towards  the  end  of  the  year  and 
opened  early  in  1600  under  the  title  of  the  Globe.  Ben 
Jonson's  comedy  of  Every  Man  Out  of  his  Humour  was 
one  of  the  first  plays  there  exhibited,  the  author,  in  an 
epilogue  written  probably  for  the  occasion,  distinctly 
appealing  to  the  judgment  of  "the  happier  spirits  in 
this   faire-fild  Globe"    (ed.    1600).     Among  the   Shakes- 

124 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

pearcan  dramas  acted  at  the  old  Globe  before  its  destruc- 
tion by  fire  in  1613  may  be  mentioned,  Romeo  and  Juliet^ 
Richard  the  Second,  King  Lear,  Tro'dus  and  Cressida, 
Pericles,   Othello,  Macbeth,  and  The   Winter's  Tale. 

Shakespeare's  company  acted  before  Queen  Ehzabeth 
at  Richmond  Palace  on  Twelfth  Night  and  Shrove  Sun- 
day, 1600,  and  at  Whitehall  on  December  26.  On  March 
6  they  were  at  Somerset  House,  and  there  performed, 
before  Lord  Hunsdon  and  some  foreign  ambassadors, 
another  drama  on  the  subject  of  Oldcastle.  A  few  weeks 
after  the  last  occurrence,  the  poet,  who  was  then  in  London, 
brought  an  action  against  one  John  Clayton  to  recover 
the  sum  of  £7,  and  duly  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  verdict 
in  his  favor.  This  is  one  of  the  several  evidences  that 
distinctly  prove  the  great  dramatist  to  have  been  a  man 
of  business,  thoroughly  realizing  the  necessity  of  careful 
attention  to  his  pecuniary  affairs.  Here  we  have  the  highest 
example  of  all  to  tell  us  that  the  financial  discretion  is 
not  incompatible  with  the  possession  of  literary  genius. 

One  of  the  most  exquisite  of  Shakespeare's  comedies, 
As  You  Like  It,  was  most  likely  produced  in  the  summer 
of  this  year,  and  was,  as  might  be  expected,  favorably 
received.  The  celebrated  speech  of  Jacques  on  the  seven 
ages  of  man  would  have  had  an  appropriate  significance 
when  uttered  below  the  Latin  motto  under  the  sign  of 
the  Globe  Theater,  but  the  coincidence  was  no  doubt  ac- 
cidental. An  attempt  to  publish  this  drama  was  frus- 
trated by  an  appeal  to  the  Stationers'  Company,  a  fact 
which  testifies  to  its  popularity ;  and  one  of  its  ditties  was 
set  to  music  by  Thomas  IMorley,  an  eminent  composer  of 
the  day,  who  published  it,  ^^^th  some  others  of  a  cognate 

125 


Life  WILLIAM 

description,  in  his  First  Booke  of  Ayres,  or  Little  Short 
Songs,  a  small  thin  folio  volume  printed  at  London  in 
the  same  year,  1600. 

According  to  a  tradition  mentioned  by  several  writers 
of  the  last  century,  there  was  a  character  in  As  You  Like 
It  that  was  performed  by  the  author  of  the  comedy. 
'*One  of  Shakespeare's  younger  brothers,"  says  Oldys, 
"who  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  even  some  years,  as  I 
compute,  after  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  II,  would 
in  his  younger  days  come  to  London  to  visit  his  brother 
Will,  as  he  called  him,  and  be  a  spectator  of  him  as  an 
actor  in  some  of  his  own  plays.  This  custom,  as  his 
brother's  fame  enlarged,  and  his  dramatic  entertainments 
grew  the  greatest  support  of  our  principal,  if  not  of 
all  our  theaters,  he  continued,  it  seems,  so  long  ofter  his 
brother's  death,  as  even  to  the  latter  end  of  his  own  life. 
The  curiosity  at  this  time  of  the  most  noted  actors  to 
learn  something  from  him  of  his  brother,  etc.,  they  justly 
held  him  in  the  highest  veneration ;  and  it  may  be  well 
believed,  as  there  was  besides  a  kinsman  and  descendant  of 
the  family,  who  was  then  a  celebrated  actor  among  them, 
this  opportunity  made  them  greedily  inquisitive  into 
every  little  circumstance,  more  especially  in  his  dramatic 
character,  which  his  brother  could  relate  of  him.  But  he, 
it  seems,  was  so  stricken  in  years,  and  possibly  his  memory 
so  weakened  with  infiimities,  which  might  make  him  the 
easier  pass  for  a  man  of  weak  intellects,  that  he  could  give 
them  but  little  light  into  their  inquiries ;  and  all  that 
could  be  recollected  from  him  of  his  brother  Will  in  that 
station  was  the  faint,  general,  and  almost  lost  ideas  he 
had  of  having  once  seen  him  act  a  part  in  one  of  his  own 
comedies,  wherein,  being  to  personate  a  decrepit  old  man, 

126 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

he  wore  a  long  beard,  and  appeared  so  weak  and  drooping 
and  unable  to  walk,  that  he  was  forced  to  be  supported 
and  carried  by  another  person  to  a  table,  at  v.hich  he  was 
seated  among  some  company  who  were  eating,  and  one 
of  them  sung  a  song."  This  account  contains  several 
discrepancies,  but  there  is  reason  for  believing  that  it 
includes  a  glimmering  of  truth  which  is  founded  on  an 
earlier  tradition. 

The  earliest  notice  of  the  comedy  of  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing  occurs  in  the  entry  in  which  we  also  first  hear 
of  As  You  Like  It.  Its  attempted  publication  was 
stopped  by  an  application  made  by  the  Stationers'  Com- 
pany on  or  before  August  4,  1600,  but,  on  the  23rd  of 
the  same  month,  Wise  and  Aspley  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing a  license.  It  is  not  known  if  the  prohibition  was 
directed  against  the  latter  publication  and  afterwards 
removed,  or  whether  it  refers  to  a  fraudulent  attempt 
by  some  other  bookseller  to  issue  a  surreptitious  copy. 
Although  Much  Ado  About  Nothing  was  not  reprinted 
in  the  author's  lifetime,  there  is  no  doubt  of  its  continued 
popularity. 

The  scene  of  this  comedy  is  laid  in  Messina,  but  the 
satire  on  the  constables  obviously  refers  to  those  of  the 
England  of  the  author's  own  time.  Aubre}-,  whose 
statements  are  always  to  be  cautiously  received,  asserts 
that  Shakespeare  "happened  to  take"  the  "humor"  of 
one  of  them  "at  Grendon  in  Bucks,  which  is  in  the  road 
from  London  to  Stratford,  and  there  was  living  that  con- 
stable about  1642."  The  eccentric  biographer  no  doubt 
refers  to  Dogberry  or  Verges,  but  if  the  poet  really 
had  a  special  individual  in  his  mind  when  portraying 
either  of  those  characters,  it  is   not  likely  that  the  Gren- 

127 


Life  WILLIAM 

don    constable   could   have   been   the   person   so   honored, 
for  unless  he  had  attained  an  incredible  age  in  the  year 
1642,  he  would  have  been  too  young  for  the  prototype. 
It  is  far  more  likely  that  the  satire  was  generally  applic- 
able to  the  English  constables  of  the  author's  period,  to 
such   as   were   those   in   the   neighborhood   of   London   at 
the  time  of  his  arrival  there,  and  who  are  so  graphically 
thus    described   in   a   letter    from    Lord   Burghley   to    Sir 
Francis  Waisingham,  written  in  1586, — "as  I  came  from 
London  homeward  in  my   coach,   I  saw  at  every  town's 
end    the    number    of   ten    or    twelve    standing    with   long 
staves,  and,  until  I  came  to  Enfield,  I  thought  no  other 
of  them  but  that  they  had  stayed  for  avoiding  of  the  rain, 
or  to  drink  at  some  alehouses,  for  so  they  did  stand  under 
pentices  at  alehouses;  but  at  Enfield,  finding  a  dozen  in 
a  plump  when  there  was  no  rain,  I  bethought  myself  that 
they  were  appointed  as   watchmen   for  the  apprehending 
of  such  as  are  missing;  and  thereupon  I  called  some  of 
them  to  me  apart,  and  asked  them  wherefore  they  stood 
there,  and  one   of  them  answered,  to  take  three  young 
men;     and,     demanding     how     they     should     know     the 
persons, — Marry,   said  they,   one   of  the   parties   hath   a 
hooked   nose;   and   have   you,   quoth   I,   no    other   mark? 
No,    said    they.     Surely,    sir,    these    watchmen    stand    so 
openly  in  plumps  as  no  suspected  person  will  come  near 
them,  and  if  they  be  no  better  instructed  but  to  find  three 
persons  by  one  of  them  having  a  hooked  nose,  they  may 
miss  thereof." 

It  was  toward  the  close  of  the  present  year,  1600,  or 
at  some  time  in  the  following  one,  that  Shakespeare,  for 
the  first  and  only  time,  came  forward  in  the  avoAved 
character  of  a  philosophical  writer.     One  Robert  Chester 

128 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

was  the  author  of  a  long  and  tedious  pocin,  which  was 
issued  in  1601,  under  the  title  of, — Love's  Martyr  or 
Uosalins  Complaint,  allegorically  shadoxcnng  the  truth  of 
Love  in  the  constant  fate  of  the  Phoenix  and  Turtle^ 
and  to  these  are  added  some  neiv  _  compositions  of 
severall  modeme  writers,  xchose  names  are  subscribed  to 
their  severall  rcorkes,  upon  the  first  subject;  viz.,  the 
Phunix  and  Turtle.  The  latter  were  stated,  in  a  separate 
title  page,  to  have  been  "done  by  the  best  and  chiefest 
of  our  moderne  writers,  with  their  names  subscrihed  to 
their  particular  workes ;  never  before  extant ;  and  now 
first  consecrated  by  them  all  generally  to  the  love  and 
mcrite  of  the  true-noble  knight,  Sir  John  Salisburie", — 
the  names  of  Shakespeare,  Marston,  Chapman,  and  Jonson 
being  attached  to  the  recognized  pieces  of  this  latter  series. 
The  contribution  of  the  great  dramatist  is  a  remarkable 
poem  in  which  he  makes  a  notice  of  the  obsequies  of  the 
phoenix  and  turtle-dove  subsei-vient  to  the  delineation  of 
spiritual  union.  It  is  generally  thought  that,  in  his  own 
works,  Chester  meditated  a  personal  allcgor}',  but,  if  that 
be  the  case,  there  is  nothing  to  indicate  that  Shakespeare 
participated  in  the  design,  nor  even  that  he  had  endurod 
the  punishment  of  reading  Lovers  Martyr. 

The  commencement  of  this  year,  1601,  is  memorable 
for  the  development  and  suppression  of  the  Essex  con- 
spirac}^  one  of  the  most  singular  events  of  the  Queen's 
reign,  and  one  in  which  Shakespeare's  company  was 
transiently  implicated.  The  general  history  of  this  re- 
markable movement  is  too  familiar  to  us  all  to  sanction 
its  repetition,  but  it  is  not  so  generally  known  that  the 
Earl's  friends,  in  their  anxiety  to  seize  every  opportunity 
of  influencing  public  opinion  in  favor  of  their  schemes, 

129 


Life  WILLIAM 

negotiated  with  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Servants  for 
the  representation  at  tlie  Globe  Theater  of  a  drama  that 
evinced  a  political  significance  in  its  treatment  of  the 
deposition  of  Richard  II.  The  conspirators  had  selected 
as  the  one  most  suitable  for  their  design  a  play  that  had 
been  already  exhibited  on  the  stage,  but,  in  a  discussion 
on  the  subject  Avith  a  few  of  the  actors,  it  was  strongly 
urged  by  the  latter  that  the  composition  in  question  had 
so  out-grown  its  popularity  that  a  serious  loss  on  its 
revival  would  inevitably  accrue ;  and,  under  these  circum- 
stances, it  was  an'anged  that  forty  shillings  should  be 
pa>id  to  the  company  in  augmentation  of  their  receipts  on 
the  occasion.  The  interview  at  which  this  compromise  was 
effected  took  place  on  Friday,  February  6,  a  "play  of 
the  deposing  and  killing  of  King  Richard,"  one  which 
also  dealt,  it  would  appear,  with  a  portion  of  the  reign 
of  his  successor,  being  represented  at  the  Globe  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  following  day ;  but  none  of  the  persons 
engaged  in  these  transactions  had  then  the  remotest  idea 
that  the  latter  were  to  be  immediately  followed  by  the 
premature  outbreak  of  the  insurrection. 

The  rapidity,  indeed,  with  which  events  now  moved 
have  most  likely  hidden  from  us  forever  the  contemr 
porar}'  light  in  which  the  proceedings  at  the  Globe 
were  viewed;  but  that  the  public  exhibition  at  this 
juncture  of  the  history  of  the  deposition  of  Richard 
was  an  unwonted  bold  step  on  the  part  of  the  com- 
pany cannot  admit  of  a  question.  Some  of  its  members, 
at  all  events,  and  most  probably  all,  must  have  been 
aware  of  the  Queen's  preternatural  sensitiveness  in 
everything  that  related  to  that  history ;  so  that  it  is 
difficult  to  avoid  the  impression  that  the  leaders  of  the 

130 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

theater  shared  in  the  all  but  universal  desire  of  the 
community  for  the  restoration  of  Essex  to  power.  It 
is  true  that  Shakespeare's  friend  and  colleague,  Au- 
gustine Phillipps,  in  an  affidavit  sworn  before  three  of 
the  judges  eleven  days  afterwards,  assigns  the  initiative 
of  the  pecuniary  offer  to  the  conspirators,  but  that  offer 
of  forty  shillings,  if  viewed  on  either  side  as  a  bribe, 
was  certainly  too  moderate  an  amount  to  have  overcome 
the  scruples  of  unwilling  agents  in  so  considerable  a  risk, 
and  too  much  reliance  should  not  be  placed  upon  the 
terms  of  a  document  that  may  have  been  signed  under 
conditions  that  admitted  of  serious  peril  to  the  witness 
and  his  friends.  Now  that  the  game  was  irretrievably 
lost,  and  the  power  of  a  despotic  government  again 
supreme,  it  is  most  likely  that  Phillipps  dexterously 
said  as  little  about  the  affair  as  he  dared,  and  yet  just 
enough  to  save  himself  and  the  other  actors  at  the  Globe 
from  being,  to  use  an  expressive  phrase  of  the  time, 
"wrecked  on  the  Essex  coast."  That  they  altogether 
escaped  this  calamity  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that 
they  performed  before  the  Queen  at  Richmond  Palace 
on  Shrove  Tuesday,  Februar}'  2-1,  the  very  evening  before 
the  lamented  death  of  Essex ;  but  it  should  be  borne  in 
mind  that  the  selection  of  that  movable  feast-day  for  the 
performance  was  merely  owing  to  the  following  of  a  long- 
established  custom,  not  the  result  of  a  special  order;  and 
Elizabeth,  now  that  the  dangers  to  which  she  had  been 
exposed  were  over,  had  too  much  wisdom,  whatever  she 
may  have  known  or  thought  respecting  their  doings  on 
the  seventh,  to  make  an  impolitic  display  of  superfluous 
animosities.  Least  of  all  is  it  probable  that  she  would 
have  been  inclined,  excepting  in  a  case  of  dire  emergency, 

131 


Life  WILLIAM 

to  have  visited  her  displeasure  upon  the  humble  ministers 
of  one  of  her  favorite  amusements,  persons,  moreover,  who 
were  then  regarded  in  about  the  same  light  with  jugglers 
and  buffoons.  As  to  her  appearance  at  a  theatrical  repre- 
sentation the  night  before  the  execution,  that  was  not  more 
unseemly  than  her  amusing  herself  by  playing  on  the 
virginals  the  following  morning,  all  this  outward  heart- 
lessnesa  emanating  from  a  determination  to  assume 
before  the  court  a  demeanor  of  indifference  to  the 
cruel  destiny  of  her  quondam  favorite. 

That  the  poet  was  intimately  acquainted,  so  far  at  least 
as  the  extreme  social  distinctions  of  the  age  permitted, 
with  some  of  the  leading  members  of  the  conspiracy,  may 
be  fairly  assumed.  It  is  all  but  impossible  that  he  should 
not  have  been  well-known  to  the  readily-accessible  Essex, 
— the  object  of  the  graceful  compliment  in  the  last  act  of 
King  Henry  the  Fifth, — one  who  was  not  only  distin- 
guished by  his  widely  extended  impartial  and  generous 
patronage  of  literature  and  its  votaries,  but  the  bosom 
friend  of  Shakespeare's  own  Maecenas.  Then  there  were 
the  Earl  of  Rutland,  the  frequent  companion  of  the  latter 
at  the  public  theaters,  and  Sir  Charles  Percy,  who,  only 
a  few  weeks  before  the  performance  at  the  Globe,  had 
shown  how  deeply  he  had  been  impressed  by  the  humor 
of  the  Second  Part  of  Henry  the  Fourth.  But  there  is 
no  evidence  that  tends  to  associate  the  great  dramatist 
with  any  kind  of  participation  in  the  furtherance  of  the 
objects  of  the  conspirators  beyond,  of  course,  the  natural 
inference  that  he  shared  with  his  colleagues  the  responsi- 
bility of  their  theatrical  proceedings  on  February  7. 

Apart  from   all  this,  even  if  it  were  thought  possible 
that  Shakespeare  could  have  been  altogether  ignorant  of 

132 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

the  treasonable  designs  of  Essex  and  Southampton,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  his  obhgations  to  and  relations  with 
the  latter,  irrespective  of  other  considerations,  made  him 
regard  the  memorable  events  of  the  following  day, — in 
whatever  way  they  may  have  come  tO'  his  knowledge, 
either  partially  as  an  eye-witness  or  otherwise, — with  feel- 
ings of  the  deepest  anxiety  and  personal  interest.  The 
history  of  that  Sunday  thus  becomes  in  a  manner  a  portion 
of  his  own  biography. 

The  poet's  father, — Mr.  Joliannes  Shakspeare,  as  he 
is  called  in  the  register, — was  buried  at  Stratford-on-Avon 
on  September  8,  1601 ;  having  no  doubt  expired  a  few 
days  previously  at  his  residence  in  Henley  Street,  which 
is  noticed  so  recently  as  1597  as  being  then  in  his  oc- 
cupation. He  is  mentioned  as  having  been  concerned  with 
others  in  the  former  year  in  the  discussion  of  matters 
respecting  an  action  brought  by  Sir  Edward  Greville 
against  the  town,  so  there  are  no  reasons  for  believing 
that  his  latest  years  were  accompanied  by  decrepitude. 
In  all  probability  the  old  man  died  intestate,  and  the 
great  dramatist  appears  to  have  succeeded,  as  his  eldest 
son  and  heir-at-law,  to  the  ownership  of  the  freehold 
tenements  in  Henley  Street.  It  is  not  likely  that  the 
widow  acquired  more  than  her  right  to  dower  in  that 
property  but  there  can  be  no  hesitation  in  assuming  that 
such  a  claim  would  have  been  merged  in  a  liberal  allow- 
ance from  her  son. 

Twelfth  Night,  the  perfection  of  English  comedy  and 
the  most  fascinating  drama  in  the  language,  was  produced 
in  the  season  of  1601-2,  most  probably  on  January  5. 
There  is  preserved  a  curious  notice  of  its  performance  in 
the  following  month  before  the  benchei-s   of  the  ^Middle 

133 


Life  WILIJAM 

Temple  in  their  beautiful  hall,  nearly  the  only  building 
now  remaining  in  London  in  which  it  is  known  that  any 
of  Shakespeare's  dramas  were  represented  during  the 
author's  lifetime.  The  record  of  this  interesting  occur- 
rence is  embedded  in  the  minutely  written  contemporary 
diary  of  one  John  Manningham,  a  student  at  that  inn  of 
court,  who  appears  Lo  have  been  specially  impressed  with 
the  character  of  Malvolio.  "A  good  practice  in  it,"  he 
observes,  "to  make  the'  steward  believe  his  lady  widow 
was  in  love  with  him,  by  counterfeiting  a  letter  as  from 
his  lady  in  general  terms,  telling  him  what  she  liked  best 
in  him,  and  prescribing  his  gesture  in  smiling,  his  apparel, 
etc.,  and  then,  when  he  came  to  practice,  making  him 
believe  they  took  him  to  be  mad."  This  representation  of 
Twelfth  Night  took  place  at  the  Feast  of  the  Purification, 
February  2,  one  of  the  two  grand  festival  days  of  the 
lawyers,  on  which  occasion  professional  actors  were  an- 
nually engaged  at  the  Middle  Temple,  the  then  liberal 
sum  of  ten  pounds  being  given  to  them  for  a  single 
performance.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  comedy  was 
performed  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  servants,  and  very 
little  that  Shakespeare  himself  was  one  of  the  actors  who 
were  engaged.  Twelfth  Night  was  appreciated  at  an 
early  period  as  one  of  the  author's  most  popular  creations. 
There  is  not  only  the  testimony  of  Manningham  in  its 
favor,  but  Leonard  Digges,  in  the  verses  describing  this 
most  attractive  of  Shakespeare's  acting  dramas,  expressly 
alludes  to  the  estimation  in  which  the  part  of  Malvolio 
was  held  by  the  frequenters  of  the  theater. 

The  Queen  kept  her  Court  at  Whitehall  in  the  Christ- 
mas of  1601-1602,  and,  during  the  holidays,  four  plays, 
one  of  them  most  probably  Twelfth  Night,  were  exhib- 

134. 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

itod  before  her  by   Sliakespeare's  company.     In  the  fol- 
lowing   May,    the    great    dramatist    purchased    from    the 
Combes,    for   the   sum    of   £320,    one   hundred   and   seven 
acres  of  land  near  Stratford-on-Avon,  but,  owing  to  his 
absence    from    that    town,    the    conveyance    was    delivered 
for  his  use  to  his  brother  Gilbert.      It  is  not  likely,  indeed, 
that  he  visited  the  locality  within  any  brief  period  after 
this  transaction,  for  otherwise  the  counterpart  of  the  in- 
denture, which   was  duly  engrossed  in  complete  readiness 
for  the   purchaser's   attestation,   would  hardly   have   been 
permitted  to  remain  without  his  signature.     But  this  was 
not  the  only  legal  business  of  the  year  in  which  the  poet 
was  interested.     It  appears  that  a  flaw  had  been  discovered 
in  the  validity  of  his  title  to  New  Place,  the  vendor's  rela- 
tive, Hercules  Underbill,  possessing  some  unknown  kind  of 
interest  that  had  not  been  effectually  barred  by  the  terms 
of  the  conveyance.     In  order  to  meet  this  difficulty  it  was 
necessary  for  a  fine  to  be  levied  through  which  the  ab- 
solute ownership  of  the  purchaser  should  be  recognized 
by   Hercules,  and   of  so   much  importance  was  this   con- 
sidered  that,   upon  the  deforciant   representing   in   June, 
1602,  that  the  state  of  his  health  prevented  his  undertaking 
a  journey  to  London,  a  special  commission  was  arranged 
for  obtaining  his  acknowledgment.     This  important  ratifi- 
cation was  procured  in  Northamptonshire  in  the  following 
October,  Shakespeare  no  doubt  being  responsible  for  the 
considerable  expenditure  that  must  have  been  incurred  by 
these    transactions,    which,    there    is    reason    to    believe, 
were   conducted   exclusively   by   liis   own   professional   ad- 
visers. 

The    pecuniary    resources    of    Shakespeare    must    now 
have    been    very    considerable,    for,    notwithstanding    the 

135 


Life  WILLIAM 

serious  expenditure  incurred  by  this,  last  acquisition,  a 
few  months  afterwards  he  is  recorded  as  the  purchaser 
of  a  small  copyhold  estate  near  his  country  residence. 
On  September  28,  1602,  at  a  Court  Baron  of  the 
Manor  of  Rowington,  one  Walter  Getley  transferred  to 
the  poet  a  cottage  and  garden  which  were  situated  in 
Chapel  Lane  opposite  the  lower  grounds  of  New  Place. 
They  covered  the  space  of  a  quarter  of  an  acre, 
with  a  frontage  in  the  lane  of  forty  feet,  and  were 
held  practically  in  fee  simple  at  the  annual  rental  of 
two  shillings  and  sixpence.  It  appears  from  the  roll  that 
Shakespeare  did  not  attend  the  manorial  court  then  held 
at  Rowington,  there  being  a  stipulation  that  the  estate 
should  remain  in  the  hands  of  the  lady  of  the  manor  until 
he  appeared  in  person  to  complete  the  transaction  with 
the  usual  formalities.  At  a  later  period  he  was  admitted 
to  the  copyhold,  and  then  he  surrendered  it  to  the  use  of 
himself  for  life,  with  a  remainder  to  his  two  daughters 
in  fee.  The  cottage  was  replaced  about  the  year  1690 
by  a  brick  and  tiled  building,  and  no  representation  of 
the  original  tenement  is  known  to  be  in  existence.  The 
latter,  in  all  probability,  had,  like  most  other  cottages  at 
Stratford-on-Avon  in  the  poet's  time,  a  thatched  roof  sup- 
ported by  mud  walls.  The  adjoining  boundary  wall  that 
enclosed  the  vicarage  garden  on  the  lane  side  continued 
to  be  one  of  mud  until  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth 
century. 

In  the  spring  of  this  year,  1602,  the  tragedy,  known 
originally  under  the  title  of  The  Revenge  of  Hamlet, 
Prince  of  Denmarh,  was  in  course  of  representation  by 
the  Lord  Chamberlain's  players  at  the  Globe  Theater, 
and  had  then,  in  all  probability,  been  recently  composed 

136 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

Its  popularity  led  to  an  unsuccessful  attempt  by  Roberts, 
u  London  publisher,  to  include  it  among  his  dramatic 
issues,  but  it  was  not  printed  until  the  summer  of  the  fol- 
lowing year,  1603,  when  two  booksellers,  named  Ling  and 
Trundell,  employed  an  inferior  and  clumsy  writer  to  work 
up,  in  his  own  fashion,  what  scraps  of  the  play  had  been 
furtively  obtained  from  shorthand  notes  or  other  mem- 
oranda into  the  semblance  of  a  perfect  drama,  which  they 
had  the  audacity  to  publish  as  Shakespeare's  own  work. 
It  is  possible,  however,  that  the  appearance  of  this  sur- 
reptitious edition,  which  contains  several  abnormous  varia- 
tions from  the  complete  work,  may  have  led  the  sharers 
of  the  theater  to  be  less  averse  to  the  publication  of  their 
own  copy.  At  all  events.  Ling  in  some  way  obtained  an 
authentic  transcript  of  the  play  in  the  following  year, 
and  it  was  "newly  imprinted"  by  Roberts  for  that  pub- 
lisher, "enlarged  to  almost  as  much  againe  as  it  was, 
according  to  the  ti*ue  and  perfect  coppie,"  1604.  The 
appearance  of  subsequent  editions  and  various  early  no- 
tices evince  the  favor  in  which  the  tragedy  was  held  by 
the  public  in  the  time  of  its  author.  The  hero  was  ad- 
mirably portrayed  by  Burbage,  and  has  ever  since,  as 
then,  been  accepted  as  the  leading  character  of  the  greatest 
actor  of  the  passing  day.  It  is  worth  notice  that  the 
incident  of  Hamlet  leaping  into  Ophelia's  grave,  now 
sometimes  omitted,  was  considered  in  Burbage's  time 
to  be  one  of  the  most  striking  features  of  the 
acted  tragedy ;  and  there  is  a  high  probability  that 
a  singular  little  by-play  drollery,  enacted  by  the  First 
Grave-digger,  was  also  introduced  at  the  Globe  perform- 
ances. The  once  popular  stage-trick  of  that  personage 
taking  off  a  number  of  waistcoats  one  after  the  other, 

137 


Life  WILLIAM 

previously  to  the  serious  commencement  of  his  work,  is 
an  artifice  which  has  only  been  laid  aside  in  compara- 
tively recent  years. 

In  February,  1603,  Roberts,  one  of  the  Shakespearean 
printers,  attempted  to  obtain  a  license  for  an  impression 
of  the  play  of  Troilus  and  Cressida,  then  in  the  course  of 
representation  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  servants.  The 
subject  had  been  dramatized  by  Decker  and  Chettle  for 
the  Lord  Admiral's  servants  in  1599,  but  although  the 
two  companies  may  have  been  then,  as  in  former  yeara, 
on  friendly  terms,  there  is  no  probability  that  their  copy- 
rights were  exchangeable,  so  that  the  application  made 
by  Roberts  is  not  likely  to  refer  to  the  jointly- written 
drama.  When  that  printer  applied  for  a  license  for  the 
publication  of  the  new  tragedy,  he  had  not  obtained,  nor 
is  there  any  reason  for  believing  that  he  ever  succeeded 
in  procuring,  the  company's-  sanction  to  his  projected 
speculation.  At  all  events,  Shakespeare's  Troilus  and 
Cressida  was  not  printed  until  early  in  the  year  1609, 
when  two  other  publishers,  Bonian  and  Walley,  having 
surreptitiously  procured  a  copy,  ventured  on  its  publica- 
tion, and,  in  the  hope  of  attracting  purchasers,  they  had 
the  audacity  to  state,  in  an  unusual  preface,  that  it  had 
never  been  represented  on  the  stage.  They  even  appeared* 
to  exult  in  having  treacherously  obtained  a  manuscript 
of  the  tragedy,  but  the  triumph  of  their  artifices  was  of 
brief  duration.  The  deceptive  temptation  they  offered 
of  novelty  must  have  been  immediately  exposed,  and  a 
pressure  was  no  doubt  exerted  upon  them  by  the  company, 
who  probably  withdrew  their  opposition  on  payment  of 
compensation,  for,  by  January  28,  the  printers  had  re- 
ceived a  license  from  the  Lord  Chamberlain  for  the  pub- 

1S8 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

lication.  The  preface  was  then  entirely  canceled,  and 
the  falsity  of  the  assertion  that  Troilus  and  Cressida  had 
never  been  acted  was  conspicuously  admitted  by  the  re- 
issue professing  to  appear  "as  it  was  acted  by  the  King's 
Majesty's  Servants  at  the  Globe," — when  is  not  stated. 
The  suppressed  preface  could  hardly  have  been  written 
had  the  drama  been  one  of  the  acting  plays  of  the  sea- 
son of  1608-1609,  and,  indeed,  the  whole  tenor  of  that 
preamble  is  against  the  validity  of  such  an  assumption. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Troilus  and  Cressida 
was  originally  produced  at  the  Globe  in  the  winter  season 
of  1602-1603. 

The  career  of  the  illustrious  sovereign,  who  had  so 
highly  appreciated  the  dramas  of  our  national  poet,  was 
now  drawing  to  an  end.  Shakespeare's  company,  who  had 
acted  before  her  at  Whitehall  on  December  26,  1602,  were 
sunnnoned  to  Richmond  for  another  performance  on  the 
following  Candlemas  Da}'^,  February  2,  1603.  The  Queen 
was  then  in  a  very  precarious  state  of  health,  and  this  was 
the  last  occasion  on  which  the  poet  could  have  had  the 
opportunity  of  appearing  before  her.  Elizabeth  died  on 
March  24,  but,  among  the  numerous  poetical  tributes  to 
her  memory  that  were  elicited  by  her  decease,  there  was 
not  one  from  the  pen  of  Shakespeare. 

The  poetical  apathy  exhibited  by  the  great  dramatist 
on  tliis  occasion,  although  specially  lamented  by  a  con- 
temporary writer,  can  easily  be  accounted  for  in  more 
than  one  way;  if,  indeed,  an  explanation  is  needed  beyond 
a  reference  to  the  then  agitated  and  bewildered  state  of 
the  public  mind.  The  company  to  which  he  belonged 
might  have  been  absent,  as  several  others  were  at  the  time, 
on  a  provincial  tour.     Again,  they  were  no  doubt  intent 

139 


Life  WILLIAM 

on  obtaining  the  patronage  of  the  new  sovereign,  and 
may  have  fancied  that  too  enthusiastic  a  display  of  grief 
for  Ehzabeth  would  have  been  considered  inseparable  from 
a  regret  for  the  change  of  dynasty.  However  that  may 
be,  James  I  arrived  in  London  on  May  7,  1603,  and  ten 
days  afterwards  he  granted,  by  bill  of  Privy  Signet,  a 
license  to  Shakespeare  and  the  other  members  of  his  com- 
pany to  perfonn  in  London  at  the  Globe  Theater,  and, 
in  the  provinces,  at  town-halls  or  other  suitable  buildings. 
They  itinerated  a  good  deal  during  the  next  few  months, 
records  of  their  performances  being  found  at  Bath, 
Coventry,  Shrewsbury,  and  Ipswich.  It  was  either  in  tliis 
year,  or  early  in  the  following  one,  and  under  this  hcense, 
that  the  company,  including  the  poet  himself,  acted  at  the 
Globe  in  Ben  Jonson's  new  comedy  of  Sejanus. 

The  King  was  staying  in  December,  1603,  at  Wilton, 
the  seat  of  one  of  Shakespeare's  patron's,  William 
Herbert,  third  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  on  the  second  of 
that  month  the  company  had  the  honor  of  performing 
before  the  distinguished  party  then  assembled  in  that 
noble  mansion.  In  the  following  Christmas  holidays, 
1603-1604,  they  were  acting  on  several  occasions  at 
Hampton  Court,  the  play  selected  for  representation  on 
the  first  evening  of  the  new  year  being  mentioned  by  one 
of  the  audience  under  the  name  of  Robin  Goodfellow, 
possibly  a  familiar  title  of  The  Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 
Their  services  were  again  invoked  by  royalty  at  Candlemas 
and  on  Shrove  Sunday,  on  the  former  occasion  at  Hamp- 
ton Court  before  the  Florentine  ambassador,  and  on  the 
latter  at  Whitehall.  At  this  time  they  were  prohibited 
from  acting  in  or  near  London,  in  fear  that  public 
gatherings  might  imperil  the  diminution  of  the  pestilence, 

140 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

the  King  making  the  con^.pany  on  that  account  the  then 
verj  handsome  present  of  thirty  pounds. 

Owing  in  some  degree  to  the  severe  plague  of  1603, 
and  more  perliaps  to  ro3'al  disinchnation,  the  puhhc 
entry  of  the  King  into,  the  metropohs  did  not  take  phice 
until  nearly  a  year  after  the  death  of  Elizabeth.  It  was 
on  March  15,  1604,  that  James  undertook  his  formal 
march  from  the  Tower  to  Westminister,  amid  emphatic 
demonstrations  of  welcome,  and  passing  every  now  and 
then  under  the  most  elaborate  triumphal  arches  London 
liad  ever  seen.  In  the  royal  train  were  the  nine  actors 
to  whom  the  special  license  had  been  granted  the  previous 
year,  including  of  course  Shakespeare  and  his  three  friends, 
Burbage,  Ilemmings,  and  Condell.  Each  of  them  was 
presented  with  four  yards  and  a  half  of  scarlet  cloth, 
the  usual  dress  allowance  to  players  belonging  to  the  house- 
hold. The  poet  and  his  colleagues  were  termed  the  King's 
Senants,  and  took  rank  at  Court  among  the  Grooms  of 
the  Chamber. 

Shortly  after  this  event  the  poet  made  a  visit  to  Strat- 
ford-on-Avon.  It  appears,  from  a  declaration  filed  in 
the  local  court,  that  he  had  sold  in  that  town  to  one  Philip 
Rogers  several  bushels  of  malt  at  various  times  between 
March  27  and  the  end  of  May,  1604,  and  that  the  latter 
did  not,  or  could  not,  pay  the  debt  thus  incurred,  amount- 
ing to  £1.  15s.  lOd.  Shakespeare  had  sold  him  malt  to 
the  value  of  £1.  19s.  lOd.,  and,  on  June  25,  Rogers 
borrowed  two  shillings  of  the  poet  at  Stratford,  making 
in  all  £2.  Is.  lOd.  Six  shillings  of  this  were  afterwards 
paid,  and  the  action  was  brought  to  recover  the  balance. 

In  the  following  August  the  gi-eat  dramatist  was  in 
London,  there  having  been  a  special  order,  issued  in  that 

Slik-l-7  141 


Life  WILLIAM 

month  by  desire  of  the  King,  for  every  member  of  the 
company  to  be  in  attendance  at  Somerset  House.  This 
was  on  the  occasion  of  the  visit  of  the  Spanish  ambas- 
sador to  England,  but  it  may  be  perhaps  that  their  pro- 
fessional services  were  not  required,  for  no  notice  of  them 
has  been  discovered. 

The  traged^^  of  Othello,  originally  known  under  the 
title  of  The  Moor  of  Venice,  is  first  heard  of  in  1604,  it 
having  been  performed  by  the  King's  players,  who  then 
included  Shakespeare  himself,  before  the  Court,  in  the 
Banqueting  House  at  Whitehall,  on  the  evening  of  Hal- 
lowmas day,  November  1.  This  drama  was  very  popular, 
Leonard  Digges  speaking  of  the  audiences  preferring  it 
to  the  labored  compositions  of  Ben  Jonson.  In  1609,  a 
stage-loving  parent,  one  William  Bishop,  of  Shoreditch, 
who  had  perhaps  been  taken  with  the  representation  of 
the  traged}^,  gave  the  name  of  Othello's  perfect  wife  to  one 
of  his  twin  daughters.  A  perfonnance  at  the  Globe  in  the 
April  of  the  following  year,  1610,  was  honored  with  the 
presence  of  the  Gennan  ambassador  and  his  suite,  and  it 
was  again  represented  at  Court  before  Prince  Charles,  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  and  the  Elector  Palatine,  in  May,  1613. 
These  scattered  notices,  accidentally  preserved,  doubtlessly 
out  of  many  others  that  might  have  been  recorded,  are 
indicative  of  its  continuance  as  an  acting  play ;  a  result 
that  may,  without  disparagement  to  the  author,  be  at- 
tributed in  some  measure  to  the  leading  character  having 
been  assigned  to  the  most  accomplished  tragic  actor  of 
the  day, — Richard  Burbage.  The  name  of  the  first  per- 
former of  lago  is  not  known,  but  there  is  a  curious 
tradition,  which  can  be  traced  as  far  back  as  the  close  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  to  the  effect  that  the  part  was 

142 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

originally  undertaken  by  a  popular  comedian,  and  that 
Shakespeare  adapted  some  of  the  speeches  of  that  character 
to  the  peculiar  talents  of  the  actor. 

The  company  are  found  playing  at  Oxford  in  the  early 
part  of  the  summer  of  1604.  In  the  Christmas  holidays 
of  the  same  year,  on  the  evening  of  December  26,  the 
comedy  of  Measure  for  Measure  was  performed  before 
the  Court  at  Whitehall,  and  if  it  were  written  for  that 
special  occasion,  it  seems  probable  that  the  lines,  those  in 
which  Angelo  deprecates  the  thronging  of  the  multitude 
to  royalty,  were  introduced  out  of  special  consideration  to 
James  I,  who,  as  is  well  known,  had  a  great  dislike  to 
encountering  crowds  of  people.  The  lines  in  the  mouth 
of  Angelo  appear  to  be  somewhat  forced,  while  their 
metrical  disposition  is  consistent  with  the  idea  that  they 
might  have  been  the  result  of  an  afterthought. 

Shakespeare's  company  performed  a  number  of  dramas 
before  the  Court  early  in  the  following  year,  1605,  in- 
cluding several  of  his  own.  About  the  same  time  a 
curious  old  play,  termed  The  London  Prodigal,  which  had 
been  previously  acted  by  them,  was  impudently  submitted 
by  Nathaniel  Butter  to  the  reading  public  as  one  of  the 
compositions  of  the  great  dramatist.  On  May  4,  a  few 
days  before  his  death,  the  poet's  colleague,  Augustine 
Phillips,  made  his  will,  leaving  "to  my  fellowe,  William 
Shakespeare,  a  thirty  shillinges  pecce  in.  goold."  And 
in  the  following  July,  Shakespeare  made  the  largest,  and, 
in  a  monetary  sense  very  likely  the  most  judicious,  pur- 
chase he  ever  completed,  giving  the  sum  of  £440  for  the 
unexpired  term  of  the  moiety  of  a  valuable  lease  of  the 
tithes  of  Stratford,  Old  Stratford,  Bishopton  and  Wel- 
corabe. 

143 


Life  WILLIAM 

On  October  9  in  the  same  year,   1605,   Shakespeare's 
compan^s  having  previously  traveled  as  far  as  Barnstaple, 
gave   another   perfonnance   before   the    Mayor  and    Cor- 
poration of  Oxford.     If  the  poet,  as  was  most  likely  the 
case,  was   one  of  the  actors   on  the  occasion,  he   would 
have  been  lodging  at  the  Crown  Inn,  a  wine-tavern  kept 
by  one  John  Davenant,  who  had  taken  out  his  hcense  in 
the    previous    year,    1604.     The    landlord   was    a    highly 
respectable  man,  filling  in  succession  the  chief  municipal 
offices,  but,  although  of  a  peculiarly  grave  and  saturnine 
disposition,  he  was,  as  recorded  by  Wood  in  1692,  "an  ad- 
mirer and  lover  of  the  plays  and  play-makers,  especially 
Shakespeare,  who  frequented  his  house  in  his  journies  be- 
tween Warwickshire  and  London."     His  wife  is  described 
by  the  same  writer  as  "a  very  beautiful  woman,  of  a  good 
wit  and  conversation."     Early  in  the  following  year  the 
latter  presented  her  husband  with  a  son,  who  was  chris- 
tened at  St,  Martin's  Church  on  March  3,  1606,  receiving 
there    the    name    of    William.     They    had    several    other 
children,  and  their  married  life  was  one  of  such  exceptional 
harmony   that   it   ehcited  the  unusual   honor   of   metrical 
tributes.     A  more  devoted   pair  the   city   of  Oxford  had 
never   seen,   and   John    Davenant,   in    his    will,    1622,   ex- 
pressly  desires  that  he  should  be  "buryed   in  the  parish 
of  St.  Martin's  in  Oxford  as  nere  my  wife  as  the  place 
will  give  leave  where  shee  lyeth." 

It  was  the  general  belief  in  Oxford,  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  that  Shakespeare  was  Wil- 
liam Davenant's  godfather,  and  there  is  no  reason  for 
questioning  the  accuracy  of  the  tradition.  Anthony 
Wood  alludes  to  the  special  regard  in  which  the  poet  was 
held  by  the  worthy  innkeeper,  while  the   christian  name 

144. 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

that  was  selected  was  a  new  one  in  the  family  of  the 
latter.  There  was  also  current  in  the  same  town  a  fav- 
orite anecdote,  in  which  a  person  was  warned  not  to 
speak  of  his  godfather  lest  he  should  incur  the  risk  of 
breaking  the  Third  Commandment.  Tliis  was  a  kind  of 
representative  story,  one  which  could  be  told  of  any 
individual  at  the  pleasure  of  the  narrator,  and  it  is  found 
in  the  generic  fonn  in  a  collection  of  tavern  pleasantries 
made  by  Taylor,  the  Water-Poet,  in  1629.  This  last 
fact  alone  is  sufficient  to  invest  a  personal  application 
with  the  gravest  doubt,  and  to  lead  to  the  inference  that 
the  subsequent  version  related  of  Shakespeare  was  alto- 
gether unauthorized.  If  so,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
with  the  spurious  tale  originated  its  necessary  foundation, 
— the  oft-repeated  intimation  that  Sir  William  Davenant 
was  the  natural  son  of  the  great  dramatist.  The  latter 
surmise  is  first  heard  of  in  one  of  the  manuscripts  of 
Aubrey,  written  in  or  before  the  year  1680,  in  which  he 
says,  after  mentioning  the  Crown  tavern, — "Mr.  William 
Shakespeare  was  wont  to  goe  into  Warwickshire  once  a 
yeare,  and  did  commonly  in  his  journey  lye  at  this  house 
in  Oxen,  where  he  was  exceedingly  respected."  He  then 
proceeds  to  tell  us  that  Sir  William,  considering  himself 
equal  in  genius  to  Shakespeare,  was  not  averse  to  being 
taken  for  his  son,  and  would  occasionally  make  these 
confessions  in  his  drinking  bouts  with  Sam  Butler  and 
other  friends.  The  writer's  language  is  obscure,  and 
might  have  been  thought  to  mean  simply  that  Davenant 
wished  to  appear  in  the  light  of  a  son  in  the  poetical 
acceptation  of  the  term,  but  the  reckless  gossip  must 
needs  add  that  Sir  William's  mother  not  only  "had  a 
very  light  report,"  but  was  looked  upon  in  her  own  day 

145 


Life  WILLIAM 

as   a  perfect  Thais.     Sufficient  is   known   of   the   family 
history    of   the   Davenants,    and    of   their   social    position 
and  respectabihty,  to   enable   us  to  be   certain   that  this 
onslaught    upon    the    lady's    reputation    is    a    scandalous 
mis-statement.     Anthony    Wood    also,    the    conscientious 
Oxonian  biographer,  who   had  the   free  use   of  Aubrey's 
papers,  eliminates   every  kind  of  insinuation   against  the 
character  of  either  Shakespeare  or  Mrs.   Davenant.      He 
may  have  known   from   reliable  sources  that  there   could 
have  been  no  truth  in  the  alleged  illegitimacy,  and  any- 
how he  no  doubt  had  the  independent  sagacity  to  observe 
that  the  reception   of  the   libel  involved  extravagant  ad- 
missions.    It  would  require  us  to  believe  that  the  guilty 
parties,  with  incredible  callousness,  united  at  the  font  to 
perpetuate  their  own  recollection  of  the  crime;  and  this 
in   the   presence    of   the   injured   husband,    who    must    be 
presumed   to    have   been   then,   and   throughout   his    life, 
unconscious  of  a  secret  which  v/as  so  insecurely  kept  that 
it   furnished   ample   materials    for   future   slander.     Even 
Aubrey  himself  tacitly  concedes  that  the  scandal  had  not 
transpired  in  the  poet's  time,  for  he  mentions  the  great 
respect  in  which  the  latter  was   held   at   Oxford.      Then, 
as  if  to  make  assurance  to   posterity   doubly   sure,   there 
is  preserved  at  Alnwick  Castle  a  very  elaborate  manuscript 
poem  on  the  Oxford  gossip  of  the  time  of  James  I,  in- 
cluding   especially    everything   that    could    be    raked    up 
against   its    innkeepers    and   taverns,    and    in    that    manu- 
script there  is  no  mention  either  of  the  Crown  Inn  or  of 
the  Davenants. 

It  is,  indeed,  easy  to  perceive  that  we  should  never 
have  heard  any  scandal  respecting  Mrs.  Davenant,  if  she 
had  not  been  noted  in  her  own  time,  and  for  long  after- 

146 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

wards,  for  her  exceptional  personal  attractions.  Her 
history  ought  to  be  a  consolation  to  ugly  girls,  that  is  to 
say,  if  the  existence  of  such  rarities  as  the  latter  be  not 
altogether  mythical.  Listen  to  the  antique  words  of 
Flccknoe,  1654,  referring  to  Lord  Exeter's  observation 
that  the  world  spoke  kindly  of  none  but  people  of  the 
ordinary  types.  "There  is  no  great  danger,"  he  writes, 
even  of  the  latter  escaping  censure,  "calumny  being  so 
universal  a  trade  now,  as  every  one  is  of  it;  nor  is  there 
any  action  so  good  they  cannot  find  a  bad  name  for,  nor 
entail  upon  't  an  ill  intention ;  insomuch  as  one  was  so 
injurious  to  his  mistress's  beauty  not  long  since  to  say, — 
she  has  more  beauty  than  becomes  the  chaste." 

A  considerable  portion  of  this  year,   1606,  was  spent 
by  the  King's  company  in  provincial  travel.     They  were 
at  Oxford  In  July,  at  Leicester  in  August,  at  Dover  in 
September,    and,    at    some    unrecorded   periods,    at    Maid- 
stone,   Saffron    Waldcn,    and    Marlborough.     Before    the 
winter  had  set  in  they   had  returned  to  London,  and  in 
the  Christmas  holidays,  on  the  evening  of  December  26, 
the  tragedy  of  King'  Lear,  some  of  the  Incidents  of  wdilch 
were  adopted  from  one  or  more  older  dramas  on  the  same 
legend,  was  represented  before  King  James  at  Whitehall, 
having  no  doubt  been  produced  at  the  Globe  in  the  sum- 
mer  of   that   year.      No    record   of   the    character   of   Its 
reception  by  the  Court  has  been  preserved,  but  it  must  have 
been  successful  at  tlie  theater  for  the  booksellers,  late  In 
the  November  of  the  following  year,  made  an  arrange- 
ment   with   the    company    to    enable   them    to    obtain    the 
sanction  of  the  Master  at  the  Revels  for  the  pubhcation 
of  the  tragedy,  two  editions  of  which  shortly  afterwards 
appeared,  both  dated  in  1608.     In  these  issues  the  author's 

lt7 


Life  WILLIAM 

name  is  curiously  given  in  one  line  of  large  type  at  the 
very  commencement  of  each  title-page,  a  singular  and  even 
unique  testimony  to  the  popularity  of  a  dramatic  author 
of  the  period. 

The  poet's  eldest  daughter,  Susanna,  then  in  her 
twenty -fifth  3^ear,  was  married  at  Stratford-on-Avon  on 
June  5,  1607,  to  John  Hall,  jM.A.,  a  physician  who 
afterwards  rose  to  great  provincial  eminence.  He  was 
bom  in  the  year  1575,  and  was  most  probably  connected 
with  the  Halls  of  Acton,  co.  Middlesex,  but  he  was  not 
a  native  of  that  village.  In  his  early  days,  as  was  usual 
with  the  more  highly  educated  youths  of  the  time,  he 
had  traveled  on  the  continent,  and  attained  a  proficiency 
in  the  French  language.  The  period  of  his  arrival  at 
Stratford-on-Avon  is  unknown,  but,  from  the  absence 
of  all  notice  of  him  in  the  local  records  previously  to 
his  marriage,  it  may  be  presumed  that  his,  settlement 
there  had  not  then  been  of  long  duration.  It  might 
even  have  been  the  result  of  his  engagement  with  the 
poet's  daughter.  He  appears  to  have  taken  up  his  first 
Stratford  abode  in  a  road  termed  the  Old  Town,  a  street 
leading  from  the  churchyard  to  the  main  portion  of  the 
borough.  With  the  further  exceptions  that,  in  1611,  his 
name  is  found  in  a  list  of  supporters  to  a  highway  bill, 
and  that,  in  1612,  he  commenced  leasing  from  the  Cor- 
poration a  small  piece  of  wooded  land  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  town,  nothing  whatever  is  known  of  his  career 
during  the  lifetime  of  Shakespeare. 

Shakespeare's  company  v/ere  playing  at  Oxford  on 
September  7,  1607,  and  towards  the  close  of  the  same 
year  he  lost  his  brother  Edmund,  who,  on  Thursday, 
December  31,  was  buried  at  Southwark,  in  the  church  of 

148 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

St.  Saviour's,  "with  a  forenoonc  knell  of  the  great  bell." 
it  may  fairly  be  assumed  that  the  burial  in  the  church, 
a  mark  of  respect  which  was  seldom  paid  to  an  actor,  and 
which  added  very  considerably  to  the  expenses  of  the 
funeral,  resulted  from  the  poet's  own  affectionate  direc- 
tions ;  while  the  selection  of  the  morning  for  the  ceremony, 
then  unusual  at  St.  Saviour's,  may  have  arisen  from  a  wish 
to  give  some  of  the  members  of  the  Globe  company  the 
opportunity  of  attendance.  Edmund  Shakespeare  was 
in  the  twenty-eighth  year  of  his  age  at  the  time  of  his 
death,  and  is  described  in  the  register  as  a  player.  There 
can  be  little  doubt  that  he  was  introduced  to  the  stage  by 
the  great  dramatist,  but,  from  the  absence  of  professional 
notice  of  him,  it  may  be  concluded  that  he  did  not  attain 
to  much  theatrical  eminence. 

Elizabeth,  the  only  child  of  the  Halls,  was  boni  in 
Febi-uary,  1608,  an  event  which  conferred  on  Shake- 
speare the  dignity  of  grandfather.  The  poet  lived  to 
see  her  attain  the  engaging  age  of  eight,  and  the  fact  of 
his  entertaining  a  great  affection  for  her  does  not  require 
the  support  of  probability  derived  from  his  traditionally 
recorded  love  of  children.  If  he  had  not  been  extremely 
fond  of  the  little  girl,  it  is  not  likely  that  he  would  have 
specifically  bequeathed  so  mere  a  child  nearly  the  whole 
of  his  plate  in  addition  to  a  valuable  contingent  interest 
in  his  pecuniary  estate.  It  appears,  from  the  records  of 
some  chancery  proceedings,  that  she  inherited  in  after 
life  the  shrewd  business  qualities  of  her  grandfather,  but, 
with  this  exception,  nothing  is  known  of  her  disposition 
or  character. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1608,  the  apparently  inartifi- 
cial drama  of  Pericles  was  represented  at  the  Globe  Theater. 

149 


Life  WILLIAM 

It  seems  to  have  been  well  received,  and  Edward  Blount, 
a  London  bookseller,  lost  no  time  in  obtaining  the  per- 
sonal sanction  of  Sir  George  Buck,  the  Master  of  the 
Revels,  for  its  publication,  but  the  emoluments  derived 
from  the  stage  performances  were  probably  too  large  for 
the  company  to  incur  the  risk  of  their  being  diminished 
by  the  circulation  of  the  printed  drama.  Blount  was 
perhaps  either  too  friendly  or  too  conscientious  to  persist 
in  his  designs  against  the  wishes  of  the  actors,  and  it 
was  reserved  for  a  less  respectable  publisher  to  issue  the 
first  edition  of  Pericles  early  in  the  following  year,  1609, 
an  impression  followed  by  another  surreptitious  one  in 
1611.  As  Blount,  the  legitimate  owner  of  the  copyright, 
was  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  first  foHo,  it  may  safely 
be  inferred  that  the  editors  of  that  work  did  not  con- 
sider that  the  poet's  share  in  the  composition  of  Pericles 
was  sufficiently  large  to  entitle  it  to  a  place  in  their  col- 
lection. This  curious  drama  lias,  in  fact,  the  appearance 
of  being  an  earlier  production,  one  to  which,  in  its  pres- 
ent form,  Shakespeare  was  merely  responsible  for  a  number 
of  re-castings  and  other  improvements. 

About  the  time  that  Pericles  was  so  well  received  at 
the  Globe,  the  tragedy  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  was  in 
course  of  performance  at  the  same  theater,  but,  although 
successful,  it  did  not  equal  the  former  in  popularity.  It 
was,  however,  sufficiently  attractive  for  Blount  to  secure 
the  consent  of  the  Master  of  the  Revels  to  its  publication, 
and  also  for  the  company  to  frustrate  his  immediate  de- 
sign. 

Almost  simultaneously  with  the  contemplated  pub- 
lication of  the  admirable  tragedy  last  mentioned,  an 
insignificant  piece,  of  some  little  merit  but  no  dramatic 

150 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

power,  entitled  The  Yorkshire  Tragedy,  was  dishonestly 
introduced  to  the  pubhc  as  having  been  "written  by 
W.  Shakespeare."  It  was  "printed  by  R.  B.  for 
Thomas  Pavier"  in  1608,  the  latter  being  a  well-known 
unscrupulous  publisher  of  the  day,  but  it  is  of  consider- 
able interest  as  one  of  the  few  domestic  tragedies  of  the 
kind  and  period  that  have  descended  to  us,  as  well  as 
from  the  circumstance  of  its  having  been  performed  by 
Shakespeare's  company  at  the  Globe  Theater.  When 
originally  produced,  it  appears  to  have  had  the  title  of 
AWs  One,  belonging  to  a  series  of  four  diminutive  plays 
that  were  consecutively  acted  by  the  company  as  a  single 
performance  in  lieu  of  a  regular  five-act-drama.  This  was 
a  curious  practice  of  the  early  stage  of  which  there  are 
several  other  examples.  The  Yorkshire  Tragedy,  the 
only  one  of  this  Globe  series  now  preserved,  was  founded 
on  a  real  occurrence  which  happened  in  the  spring  of 
the  year  1605, — one  of  those  exceptionally  terrible 
murders  that  every  now  and  then  electrify  and  sadden 
the  public.  A  Yorkshire  squire  of  good  famil}^  mad- 
dened by  losses  resulting  from  a  career  of  dissipation, 
having  killed  two  of  his  sons,  unsuccessfully  attempted 
the  destruction  of  his  wife  and  her  then  sole  remaining 
child.  The  event  created  a  great  sensation  in  London 
at  the  time,  and  it  is  most  likely  that  this  drama  on  the 
subject  was  produced  at  the  theater  shortly  after  the 
occurrence,  or,  at  least,  before  the  public  excitement 
respecting  It  had  subsided.  This  is  probable,  not  merely 
from  the  haste  with  which  it  was  apparently  written,  but 
from  its  somewhat  abrupt  termination  indicating  that  it 
was  completed  before  the  execution  of  the  murderer  at 
York  in  August,  1605.     It  appears  to  have  been  the  crim- 

151 


Life  WILLIAM 

inal's  professed  object  to  blot  out  the  family  in  sight  of 
their  impending  ruin,  intending  perhaps  to  consummate  the 
work  by  suicide,  but  he  exhibited  at  the  last  some  kind  of 
desire  to  atone  for  his  unnatural  cruelty.  In  order  to 
save  the  remnant  of  the  family  estates  for  the  benefit  of 
his  wife  and  surviving  child,  he  refused  to  plead  to  the 
indictment,  thus  practically  electing  to  suffer  the  then  in- 
evitable and  fearful  alternative  of  being  pressed  to  death. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  publisher  of  The  Yorkshire 
Tragedy  took  advantage  of  the  departure  of  Shakespeare 
from  London  to  perpetrate  his  nominated  fraud,  for  the 
poet's  company  were  traveling  on  the  southern  coast  about 
the  time  of  its  appearance.  A  few  months  later  the  great 
dramatist  was  destined  to  lose  his  mother,  the  Mary  Arden 
of  former  days,  who  was  buried  at  Stratford-on-Avon  on 
September  9,  1608.  He  would  naturally  have  desired,  if 
possible,  to  attend  the  funeral,  and  it  is  nearly  certain  that 
he  was  at  his  native  town  in  the  following  month.  On 
October  16  he  was  the  principal  godfather  at  the  baptism 
of  the  William  Walker  to  whom,  in  1616,  he  bequeathed 
"twenty  shillings  in  gold."  This  child  was  the  son  of 
Henry  Walker,  a  mercer  and  one  of  the  aldermen  of  the 
town.  It  should  be  added  that  the  King's  Servants  were 
playing  at  Coventry  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  the  last-named 
month,  and  that  they  acted  in  the  same  year  upon  some 
unknown  occasion  at  Marlborough. 

The  records  of  Stratford  exhibit  the  poet,  in  1608  and 
1609,  engaged  in  a  suit  with  a  townsman  for  the  recovery 
of  a  debt.  In  the  August  of  the  former  year  he  com- 
menced an  action  against  one  John  Addenbroke,  but  it 
then  seems  to  have  been  in  abeyance  for  a  time,  the  first 
precept  for  a  jury  in  the  cause  being  dated  December  21, 

152 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

1608;  after  which  there  was  another  delay,  possibly  in  the 
hope  of  the  matter  being  amicably  arranged,  a  peremptory 
summons  to  the  same  jury  having  been  issued  on  February 
15,  in  the  following  year.  A  verdict  was  then  given  in 
favor  of  the  poet  for  £6  and  £1.  4s.  costs,  and  execution 
went  f oi-th  against  the  defendant ;  but  the  sergeant-at-mace 
returning  that  he  was  not  to  be  found  within  the  liberty 
of  the  borough,  Shakespeare  proceeded  against  a  person  of 
the  name  of  Horneby,  who  had  become  bail  for  Adden- 
broke.  This  last  process  is  dated  on  June  7,  1609,  so  that 
nearly  a  year  elapsed  during  the  prosecution  of  the  suit. 
It  must  not  be  assumed  that  the  great  dramatist  attended 
personally  to  these  matters,  although  of  course  the  pro- 
ceedings were  carried  on  under  his  instructions.  The  pre- 
cepts, as  appears  from  memoranda  in  the  originals,  were 
issued  by  the  poet's  cousin,  Thomas  Greene,  who  was  then 
residing,  under  some  unknown  conditions,  at  New  Place. 

The  spring  of  the  year  1609  is  remarkable  in  literary 
history  for  the  appearance  of  one  of  the  most  singular 
volumes  that  ever  issued  from  the  press.  It  was  entered 
at  Stationers'  Hall  on  May  20,  and  pubhshed  by  one 
Thomas  Thoi-pe  under  the  title  of — Shake-speares  Sonnets, 
n€uer  before  imprinted, — the  first  two  words  being  given 
in  large  capitals,  so  that  they  might  attract  their  full  share 
of  public  notice.  This  little  book,  a  very  small  quarto  of 
forty  leaves,  was  sold  at  what  would  now  be  considered  the 
trifling  price  of  five-pence.  The  exact  manner  in  which 
these  sonnets  were  acquired  for  publication  remains  a 
mystery,  but  it  is  most  probable  that  they  were  obtained 
from  one  of  the  poet's  intimate  friends  who  alone  would  be 
likely  to  have  copies,  not  only  of  so  many  of  those  pieces 
but  also  one  of  The  Lover's  Co-mplaint.     However  that 

153 


Life  WILLIAM 

maj^  be,  Thorpe, — the  well-wishing  adventurer, —  was  so 
elated  with  the  opportunity  of  entering  into  the  specula- 
tion that  he  dedicated  the  work  to  the  factor  in  the  ac- 
quisition, one  Mr.  W.  H.,  in  language  of  hyperbolical 
gratitude,  wishing  him  every  happiness  and  an  eternity, 
the  latter  in  terms  which  are  altogether  inexplicable.  The 
surname  of  the  addressee,  which  has  not  been  recorded,  has 
been  the  subject  of  numerous  futile  conjectures;  but  the 
use  of  initials  in  the  place  of  names,  especially  if  they 
referred  to  private  individuals,  was  then  so  extremely  com- 
mon that  it  is  not  necessary  to  assume  that  there  was  an 
intentional  reser^^ation. 

At  the  time  that  the  Sonnets  Issued  from  the  press  the 
author's  company  were  itinerating  in  Kent,  playing  at 
Hythe  on  May  16  and  at  New  Romney  on  the  following 
da}'.  They  were  also  at  Shrewsbury  at  some  unrecorded 
period  in  the  same  year,  a  memorable  one  in  thfe  theatrical 
biography  of  the  great  dramatist,  for  in  the  following 
December,  the  eyry  of  children  quitted  the  Blackfriars 
Theater  to  be  replaced  by  Shakespeare's  company.  The 
latter  then  included  Hemmings,  Condell,  Burbage,  and  the 
poet  himself. 

The  exact  period  is  unknown,  but  it  was  in  the  same 
year,  1609,  or  not  very  long  afterwards,  that  Shakespeare 
and  two  other  individuals  either  commenced  or  devised  a 
lav/-suit  bearing  upon  a  question  in  which  he  was  interested 
as  a  partial  owner  of  the  Stratford  tithes.  Our  only  in- 
formation on  the  subject  is  derived  from  the  draft  of  a  bill 
of  complaint,  one  that  was  penned  under  the  following  cir- 
cumstances.— Nearly  all  the  valuable  possessions  of  the 
local  college,  including  the  tithes  of  Stratford-on-Avon, 
Old  Stratford,  Welcombe  and  Bishopton  were  granted  by 

154 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

Edward  VI,  a  few  days  before  his  death  in  1553,  to  the 
Corporation,  but  the  gift  was  subject  to  the  unexpired 
tenn  of  a  lease  for  ninety-two  years  which  had  been  exe- 
cuted in  1544*  by  the  then  proprietors  in  favor  of  one  Wil- 
liam Barker.     The  next  owner  of  the  lease,  John  Barker, 
assigned  it  in  1580  to  Sir  John  Huband,  but  he  reserved 
to  himself  a  rent  charge  of  £27.  13s.  4d.,  with  the  usual 
power  of  reentry   in   case  of  non-payment.     The   above 
mentioned  tithes  were  of  course  involved  in  this  liability, 
but,  when  Shakespeare  purchased  a  moiety  of  them  in  1605, 
it  was  arranged  that  his  share  of  that  charge  should  be 
commuted  by  an  annual  payment  of  £5.     An  obsei-vance 
of    this    condition    should    have    absolved    the    poet    from 
further  trouble  in  the  matter,  but  this  unfortunately  was  not 
the  case.     When  the  bill  of  complaint  was  drafted  there 
were  about  forty  persons  who  had  interests  under  Barkei-'s 
lease,  and  commutations  of  the  shares  of  the  rent-charge 
had  only  been  made  in  two  cases,  that  is  to  say,  in  those 
of    the     owners     of    the     tithe-moieties.     A     number     of 
the  other  tenants  had  expressed  their  willingness  to  join  in 
an  equitable  arrangement,  provided  that  it  was  legally  car- 
ried out ;  but  there  were  some  who  declined  altogether  to 
contribute,  and  hence  arose  the  necessity  of  taking  measures 
to  compel  them  to  do  so,  a  few,  including  Shakespeare, 
having  had  to   pay  more  than   their  due   proportions   to 
avoid  the  forfeitures  of  their  several  estates.     The  result  of 
the  legal  proceedings,  if  any  were  instituted,  is  not  known, 
but    there    are   reasons    for   believing   that   the   movement 
terminated  in  some  way  in  favor  of  the  complainants. 

The  annual  income  which  Shakespeare  derived  from  his 
moiety  is  estimated  in  the  bill  of  complaint  at  £60,  but  this 
was  not  only  subject  to  the  payment  of  the  above-named 

155 


Life  WILLIAM 

£5,  but  also  to  that  of  one-half  of  another  rent-charge, 
one  of  £34,  that  belonged  to  the  Corporation  of  Strat- 
ford. His  net  income  from  the  tithes  would  thus  be 
reduced  to  £38,  but  it  was  necessarily  of  a  fluctuating 
character,  the  probability,  however,  being  that  there  was 
a  tendency  towards  increase,  especially  in  the  latter  part 
of  his  career.  It  is  most  likely  that  he  entered  into  an 
agreement  each  year  with  a  collector,  whose  province  it 
would  have  been  to  relieve  him  of  all  trouble  in  the  matter, 
and  pay  over  a  stipulated  amount.  It  is  not  probable  that 
he  himself  visited  the  harvest  field  to  mark,  as  was  then  the 
local  practice,  every  tenth  sheaf  with  a  dock,  or  that  he 
personally  attended  to  the  destination  of  each  of  his  tithe- 
pigs. 

The  next  year,  1610,  is  nearly  barren  of  recorded  in- 
cidents, but  in  the  early  part  of  it  Shakespeare  purchased 
twenty  acres  of  pasture  land  from  the  Combes,  adding 
them  to  the  valuable  freeholds  that  he  had  obtained  from 
those  parties  in  1602.  After  this  transaction  he  owned 
no  fewer  than  a  hundred  and  twenty-seven  acres  in  the  com- 
mon fields  of  Stratford  and  its  neighborhood.  His  first 
purchase  consisted  entirely  of  arable  land,  but  although  he 
had  the  usual  privilege  of  common  of  pasture  that  was 
attached  to  it,  the  new  acquisition  was  no  doubt  a  desirable 
one.  The  concord  of  the  fine  that  was  prepared  on  the 
latter  occasion  is  dated  April  13,  1610,  and,  as  it  was 
acknowledged  before  Commissioners,  it  may  be  inferred  that 
Shakespeare  was  not  in  London  at  the  time.  His  com- 
pany were  at  Dover  in  July,  at  Oxford  in  August,  and  at 
Shrewsbury  at  some  period  of  the  year  which  has  not  been 
recorded. 

There  are  an  unusual  number  of  evidences  of  Shake- 

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SHAKESPEARE  Life 

speare's  dramatic  popularity  in  the  following  year.  We 
now  first  hear  of  his  plays  of  Macbeth,  The  Winter's  Tale, 
Cymbelvne,  and  The  Tempest.  New  impressions  of  Titus 
Anchonkus,  Hamlet,  and  Pericles  also  appeared  in  1611, 
and,  in  the  same  year,  a  publisher  named  Kelme  issued  an 
edition  of  the  old  play  of  King  John,  that  which  Shake- 
speare so  man^elously  re-dramatized,  with  the  deceptive 
imputation  of  the  authorship  to  one  W.  Sh.,  a  clear  proof, 
if  any  were  needed,  of  the  early  commercial  value  of  his 

name. 

The    tragedy    of    Macbeth    was    acted    at    the    Globe 
Theater,    in    April,    1611,    and    Forman,    the    celebrated 
astrologer,  has  recorded  a  graphic  account  of  its  perform- 
ance on  that  occasion,  the  only   contemporary   notice  of 
it  that  has  been  discovered.     The  eccentric  Doctor  appears 
to   have   given   some   of  the   details   inaccurately,   but   he 
could   hardly   have   been   mistaken   in   the    statement    that 
Macbeth    and    Banquo    made    their    first    appearance    on 
horseback,  a  curious  testimony  to  the  rude  endeavors  of 
the    stage-managers    of    the    day    to    invest    their    repre- 
sentations  with   something  of   reality.     The  weird  sisters 
were  personated  by  men  whose  heads  were  disguised  by 
grotesque  periwigs.     Forman's   narrative   decides   a   ques- 
tion, which  has  frequently  been  raised,  as  to  whether  the 
Ghost  of  Banquo  should  appear,  or  only  be  imagined,  by 
Macbeth.     There  is  no  doubt  that  the  Ghost  was  person- 
ally introduced  on  the  early  stage  as  well  as  long  after- 
wards, when  the  tragedy  was  revived  by  Davenant ;  but  the 
audiences   of  the   seventeenth   century   were    indoctrinated 
with  the  common  belief  that  spirits  were  generally  visible 
only  to  those  connected  with  their  object  or  mission,  so  in 
this  play,  as  in  some  others  of  the  period,  an  artificial 

157 


Life  WILLIAM 

stimulus  to  credulity  in  that  direction  was  unnecessary.  It 
is  a  singular  circumstance  that,  in  Davenant's  time,  Banquo 
and  his  Ghost  were  perf onned  by  different  actors,  a  practice 
not  impossibly  derived  from  that  of  former  times. 

A  performance  of  the  comedy  of  The  Wmter^s  Tale, 
the  name  of  which  is  probably  owing  to  its  having  been 
originally  produced  in  the  winter  season,  was  witnessed 
by  Dr.  Forman  at  the  Globe  Theater  on  May  15,  1611. 
It  was  also  the  play  chosen  for  representation  before  the 
Court  on  November  15  in  the  same  year.  Although  it  is 
extremely  unlikely  that  Camillo's  speech  respecting 
"anointed  Kings"  influenced  the  selection  of  the  comedy, 
there  can  hardly  be  a  doubt  tliat  a  sentiment  so  appropriate 
to  the  anniversary  celebrated  on  that  day  was  favorably 
received  by  a  Whitehall  audience.  The  W'mter^s  Tale  was 
also  performed  in  the  year  1613  before  Prince  Charles,  the 
Lady  Elizabeth  and  the  Elector  Palatine,  some  time  before 
the  close  of  the  month  of  April,  at  which  period  the  two 
last  of  the  above-named  personages  left  England  for  the 
Continent. 

Among  the  performances  of  other  dramas  witnessed  by 
Dr.  Forman  was  one  of  the  tragedy  of  Cymbeline,  and 
although  he  does  not  record  either  the  date  or  the  locality, 
there  can  be  little  hesitation  in  referring  the  incident  to 
the  spring  of  the  year  1611 ;  at  all  events,  to  a  period  not 
later  than  the  following  September,  when  that  marvelously 
eccentric  astrologer  died  suddenly  in  a  boat  while  passing 
over  the  Thames  from  Southwark  to  Puddle  Dock.  It  may 
be  suspected  that  the  poet  was  in  London  at  the  time  of 
that  occurrence,  for  in  a  subscription  list  originated  at 
Stratford-on-Avon  on  the  eleventh  of  that  month,  his  name 
is  the  only  one  found  on  the  margin,  as  if  it  were  a  later 

158 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

insertion  in  a  folio  page  of  donors  *'towardcs  the  charge  of 
prosecutyng  the  bill  in  Parliament  for  the  better  repayre  of 
the  highe  waies."  The  moneys  were  raised  in  anticipation 
of  a  Parliament  which  was  then  expected  to  be  summoned, 
but  which  did  not  meet  until  long  afterwards.  The  list 
includes  the  names  of  all  the  leading  inhabitants  of  the 
town,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  say  whether  the  poet  took 
a  special  interest  in  the  proposed  design,  or  if  he  allowed 
his  name  to  appear  merely  out  of  consideration  for  its  pro- 
moters. 

The  comedy  of  The  Tempest,  having  most  likely  been 
produced  at  one  of  the  Shakespearean  theaters  in  1611, 
was  represented  before  King  James  and  the  Court  at 
Whitehall  on  the  evening  of  November  1  in  that  year,  the 
incidental  music  having  been  composed  by  Robert  Johnson, 
one  of  the  Royal  "musicians  for  the  lutes."  The  record 
of  the  performance  includes  the  earliest  notice  of  that 
drama  which  has  yet  been  discovered.  It  was  also  acted 
with  success  at  the  Blackfriars  Theater,  and  it  was  one 
of  the  plays  selected  early  in  the  year  1613  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  Prince  Charles,  the  Lady  Elizabeth  and  the 
Elector  Palatine. 

The  four  years  and  a  half  that  intervened  between  the 
performance  of  The  Tempest  in  1611  and  the  author's 
death,  could  not  have  been  one  of  his  periods  of  great  lit- 
erary activity.  So  many  of  his  plays  are  known  to  have 
been  in  existence  at  the  former  date,  it  follows  that  there 
are  only  six  which  could  by  any  possibility  have  been  writ- 
ten after  that  time,  and  it  is  not  likely  that  the  whole  of 
those  belong  to  so  late  an  era.  These  facts  lead  irresisti- 
bly to  the  conclusion  that  the  poet  abandoned  literary 
occupation  a  considerable  period  before  his  decease,  and,  la 

159 


Life  WILLIAM 

all  probability,  when  he  disposed  of  his  theatrical  property. 
So  long  as  he  continued  to  be  a  shareholder  in  the  Globe 
Theater,  it  was  incumbent  upon  him  to  supply  the  com- 
pany with  tvvo  plays  annually.  It  may  therefore,  be 
reasonably  inferred  that  he  parted  with  his  shares  within 
two  or  three  years  after  the  performance  above  alluded  to, 
the  drama  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth  being,  most  likely, 
his  concluding  work. 

Among  the  six  plays  above  mentioned  is  the  amusing 
comedy  of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew.     Most  of  the  inci- 
dents of  that  drama,  as  well  as  those  of  its  exquisite  induc- 
tion, are  taken  from  an  old  farce  which  was  written  at  some 
time  before  May,  1594,  and  published  in  that  year  under 
the  nearly  identical  title  of  The  Taming  of  a  Shrew.     This 
latter  work  had  then  been  acted  by  the  Earl  of  Pembroke's 
servants,   and   was   probably   well  known   to    Shakespeare 
when  he  was  connected  with  that  company,  or  shortly  after- 
wards, for  it  was  one  of  the  plays  represented  at  the  New- 
ington  Butts  Theater  by  the  Lord  Admiral's  and  the  Lord 
Chamberlain's  men  in  the  June  of  the  same  year.     The 
period  at  which  he  wrote  the  new  comedy  is  at  present  a 
matter  solely  of  conjecture;  but  its  local  allusions  might 
induce  an  opinion  that  it  was  composed  with  a  view  to  a 
contemplated  representation  before  a  provincial  audience. 
That  delicious  episode,  the  mduction,  presents  us  with  a 
fragment  of  the  rural  life  with  which  Shakespeare  himself 
must  have  been  familiar  in  his  native  county.     With  such 
animated  power  is  it  written  that  we  almost  appear  to 
personally  witness  the  affray  between  Marian  Hacket,  the 
fat  ale-wife  of  Wincot,  and  Christopher  Sly,  to  see  the 
nobleman  on  his  return  from  the  chase  discovering  the  in- 
sensible drunkard,  and  to  hear  the  strolling  actors  make 

160 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

the  offer  of  professional  services  that  was  requited  by  the 
cordial  welcome  to  the  buttery.  Wincot  is  a  secluded 
hamlet  near  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  there  is  an  old  tradi- 
tion that  the  ale-house  frequented  by  Sly  was  often  resorted 
to  by  Shakespeare  for  the  sake  of  diverting  himself  with 
a  fool'who  belonged  to  a  neighboring  mill.  Stephen  Sly, 
one  of  the  tinker's  friends  or  relatives,  was  a  known  char- 
acter at  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  is  several  times  mentioned 
in  the  records  of  that  town.  This  fact,  taken  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  references  to  Wilmecote  and  Barton-on-the- 
Heath,  definitely  proves  that  the  scene  of  the  induction 
was  intended  to  be  in  the  neighborhood  of  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  the  water-mill  tradition  leading  to  the  belief  that 
Little  Wilmecote,  the  part  of  the  hamlet  nearest  to  the 
poet's  native  town,  is  the  Wincot  alluded  to  in  the  comedy. 
If — but  the  virtuous  character  of  that  interesting  particle 
must  not  be  overlooked — the  local  imagery  extends  to  the 
nobleman,  the  play  itself  must  be  supposed  to  be  repre- 
sented at  Clopton  House,  the  only  large  private  residence 
near  the  scene  of  Sly's  intemperance;  but  if  so,  not  until 
1605,  in  the  May  of  which  year  Sir  George  became  Baron 
Carew  of  Clopton. 

It  was  the  general  opinion  in  the  convivial  days  of 
Shakespeare  "that  a  quart  of  ale  is  a  dish  for  a  king." 
So  impressed  were  nearly  all  classes  of  society  by  its  attrac- 
tions, it  was  imbibed  wherever  it  was  to  be  found,  and  there 
was  no  possible  idea  of  degradation  attached  to  the  poet's 
occasional  visits  to  the  house  of  entertainment  at  Wincot. 
If,  indeed,  he  had  been  observed  in  that  village  and  to  pass 
Mrs.  Racket's  door  without  taking  a  sip  of  ale  with  the 
vigorous  landlady,  he  might  perhaps  no  longer  have  been 
enrolled  among  the  members  of  good-fellowship.     Such  a 

161 


Life  WILLIAM 

notion,  at  all  events,  is  at  variance  with  the  proclivities 
recorded  in  the  famous  crab-tree  anecdote,  one  which  is 
of  sufficient  antiquity  to  deserve  a  notice  among  the  more 
trivial  records  of  Shakespearean  biography.  It  would  ap- 
pear from  this  tradition  that  the  poet,  one  summer's  morn- 
ins:,  set  out  from  his  native  town  for  a  walk  over  Bardon 
Hill  to  the  village  of  Bidford,  six  miles  distant,  a  place 
said  to  have  been  then  noted  fdr  its  revelry.  When  he  had 
nearly  reached  his  destination,  he  happened  to  meet  with 
a  shepherd,  and  jocosely  enquired  of  him  if  the  Bidford 
Drinkers  were  at  home.  The  rustic,  perfectly  equal  to  the 
occasion,  replied  that  the  Drinkers  were  absent,  but  that 
he  would  easily  find  the  Sippers,  and  that  the  latter  might 
perhaps  be  sufficiently  jolly  to  meet  his  expectations.  The 
anticipations  of  the  shepherd  were  fully  realized,  and 
Shakespeare,  in  bending  his  way  homeward  late  in  the 
evening,  found  an  acceptable  interval  of  rest  under  the 
branches  of  a  crab-tree  which  was  situated  about  a  mile 
from  Bidford.  There  is  no  great  wonder  and  no  special 
offense  to  record,  when  it  is  added  that  he  was  overtaken 
by  drowsiness,  and  that  he  did  not  renew  the  course  of 
his  journey  until  early  in  the  following  morning.  The 
whole  story,  indeed,  when  viewed  strictly  with  reference 
to  the  habits  and  opinions  of  those  days,  presents  no 
features  that  suggest  disgrace  to  the  principal  actor,  or 
imposition  on  the  part  of  the  narrator.  With  our  an- 
cestors the  ludicrous  aspect  of  intoxication  completely 
neutralized,  or  rather,  to  speak  more  correctly,  excluded 
the  thought  of  attendant  discredit.  The  affair  would 
have  been  merely  regarded  in  the  light  of  an  unusually 
good  joke,  and  that  there  is,  at  least,  some  foundation 
for  the  tale  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that,  as  early 

162 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

as  the  year  1762,  the  tree,  then  known  as  Shakespeare's 
Canopy,  was  regarded  at  Stratford-on-Avon  as  an  object 
of  great  interest. 

In  the  year  1612  the  third  edition  of  The  Passionate 
Pilgrim  made  its  appearance,  the  pubHsher  seeking  to 
at,tract  a  special  class  of  buyers  by  describing  it  as  con- 
sisting of  "Certain  Amorous  Sonnets  between  Venus  and 
Adonis."  These  were  announced  as  the  work  of  Shake- 
speare, but  it  is  also  stated  that  to  them  were  "newly 
added  two  love-epistles,  the  first  from  Paris  to  Helen, 
and  Helen's  answer  back  again  to  Paris ;"  the  name  of 
the  author  of  the  last  two  poems  not  being  mentioned. 
The  wording  of  the  title  might  imply  that  the  latter  were 
also  the  compositions  of  the  great  dramatist,  but  they  were 
in  fact  written  by  Thomas  Heywood,  and  had  been  im- 
pudently taken  from  his  Troia  Britanica,  a  large  poetical 
work  that  had  appeared  three  years  previously,  1609. 
"Here,  likewise,"  obser^^es  that  writer,  speaking  in  1612 
of  the  last-named  production,  "I  must  necessarily  insert  a 
manifest  injur}^  done  me  in  that  worke  by  taking  the  two 
Epistles  of  Paris  to  Helen,  and  Helen  to  Paris,  and  print- 
ing them  in  a  lesse  volume  under  the  name  of  anotlicr,  which 
may  put  the  world  in  opinion  I  might  steale  them  from 
him ;  and  hee,  to  doe  himselfe  right,  hath  since  published 
them  in  his  owne  name;  but  as  I  must  acknowledge  my 
lines  not  worthy  his  patronage  under  whom  he  hath 
publisht  them,  so  the  author  I  know  much  offended  with 
M.  Jaggard  that  (altogether  unknowne  to  him)  presumed 
to  make  so  bold  with  his  name." 

Although  Heywood  thus  ingeniously  endeavors  to 
make  it  appear  that  his  chief  objection  to  the  piracy 
arose  from  a  desire  to   shield  himself  against   a   charge 

163 


Life  WILLIAM 

of  plagiarism,  it  is  apparent  that  he  was  liighly  incensed 
at  the  hberty  that  had  been  taken ;  and  a  new  title-page 
to  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  of  1612,  from  which  Shake- 
peare's  name  was  withdrawn,  was  afterwards  issued. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that  this  step  was  taken  mainly 
in  consequence  of  the  remonstrances  of  Heywood  ad- 
dressed to  Shakespeare,  who  may  certainly  have  been  dis- 
pleased at  Jaggard's  proceedings,  but  as  clearly  required 
pressure  to  induce  him  to  act  in  the  matter.  If  the 
publisher  would  now  so  readily  listen  to  Shakespeare's 
wishes,  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  he  would  not  have  been 
equally  compliant  had  he  been  expostulated  with  either 
at  the  first  appearance  of  the  work  in  1599,  or  at  any 
period  during  the  following  twelve  years  of  its  circulation. 
It  is  pleasing  to  notice  that  Heywood,  In  observing  that 
the  poet  v,as  ignorant  of  Jaggard's  intentions,  entirely 
acquits  the  former  of  any  blame  in  the  matter. 

In  the  course  of  this  year  the  King's  Servants  are 
found  playing  at  Folkestone,  New  Romney,  and  Shrev/s- 
bury;  and  early  in  the  following  one,  1613,  the  great 
dramatist  lost  his  younger,  most  probably  now  his  only 
surviving,  brother,  Richard,  who  was  buried  at  Stratford- 
on-Avon  on  Thursday,  February  4.  He  was  in  the  thirty- 
ninth  year  of  his  age.  Beyond  the  records  of  his  baptism 
and  funeral  no  biographical  particulars  respecting  him 
have  been  discovered ;  but  It  may  be  suspected  that  all 
the  poet's  brothers  vv'ere  at  times  more  or  less  dependent  on 
his  purse  or  Influence.  When  the  parish-clerk  told  Dow- 
dall,  in  1693,  that  Shakespeare  "was  the  best  of  his  family," 
he  used  a  provincial  expression  which  implied  not  only 
that  its  other  members  of  the  same  sex  were  less  amiable 

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SHAKESPEARE  Life 

than  himself,  but  that  they  were  not  held  in  very  favor- 
able estimation. 

There  is  no  record  of  the  exact  period  at  which  the 
great  dramatist  retired  from  the  stage  in  favor  of  a 
retreat  at  New  Place,  but  it  is  not  likely  that  he  made 
the  latter  a  permanent  residence  until  1613  at  the  earliest. 
Had  this  step  been  taken  previously,  it  is  improbable 
that  he  would,  in  the  March  of  that  year,  have  been 
anxious  to  secure  possession  of  an  estate  in  London,  a 
property  consisting  of  a  house  and  a  yard,  the  lower 
part  of  the  former  having  been  then  and  for  long  pre- 
viously a  haberdasher's  shop.  The  premises  referred  to, 
situated  within  one  or  two  hundred  yards  to  the  east  of 
tlie  Blackfriars  Theater,  were  bought  by  the  poet  for  the 
sum  of  £140,  and  for  some  reason  or  other,  he  was  so 
intent  on  its  acquisition  that  he  permitted  a  considerable 
amount,  £60,  of  the  purchase-money  to  remain  on  mort- 
gage. That  reason  can  hardly  be  found  in  the  notion  that 
the  property  was  merely  a  desirable  investment,  for  it 
would  appear  to  have  been  purchased  at  a  somershat  ex- 
travagant rate,  the  vendor,  one  Henry  Walker,  a  London 
musician,  having  paid  but  £100  for  it  in  the  year  1604. 
If  intended  for  conversion  into  Shakespeare's  own  resi- 
dence, that  design  was  afterwards  abandoned,  for,  at  some 
time  previously  to  his  death,  he  had  granted  a  lease  of  it 
to  John  Robinson,  who  was,  oddl}'  enough,  one  of  the 
persons  who  had  violently  opposed  the  establishment  of 
the  neighboring  theater.  It  does  not  appear  that  Shake- 
speare lived  to  redeem  the  mortgage,  for  the  legal  estate 
remained  in  the  trustees  until  the  year  1618.  Among  the 
latter  was   one   described   as   John   Hemyng   of   London, 

Shk-1-8  165 


Life  WILLIAM 

gentleman,  who  signs  himself  Heminges,  but  it  is  not  likely 
that  he  was  the  poet's  friend  and  colleague  of  the  same 
name. 

The  conveyance-deeds  of  this  house  bear  the  date  of 
March  10,  1613,  but  in  all  probability  they  were  not 
executed  until  the  following  day,  and  at  the  same  time 
that  the  mortgage  was  effected.  The  latter  transaction 
was  completed  in  Shakespeare's  presence  on  the  eleventh, 
and  that  the  occurrence  took  place  in  London  or  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  is  apparent  from  the  fact  that 
the  vendor  deposited  the  original  conveyance  on  the  same 
day  for  enrollment  in  the  Court  of  Chancery.  The  in- 
dependent witnesses  present  on  the  occasion  consisted  of 
Atkinson,  who  was  the  Clerk  of  the  Brewers'  Company, 
and  a  person  of  the  name  of  Overy.  To  these  were 
joined  the  then  usual  official  attestors,  the  scrivener  who 
drew  up  the  deeds  and  his  assistant,  the  latter,  one  Henry 
Lawrence,  having  the  honor  of  lending  his  seal  to  the  great 
dramatist,  who  thus,  to  the  disappointment  of  posterity, 
impressed  the  wax  of  both  his  labels  with  the  initials  H.  L. 
instead  of  those  of  his  own  name. 

This  Blackfriars  estate  was  the  only  London  property 
that  Shakespeare  is  known  for  certain  to  have  ever  owned. 
It  consisted  of  a  dwelling-house,  the  first  story  of  which 
was  erected  partially  over  a  gateway,  and  either  at  the. 
side  or  back,  included  in  the  premises,  was  a  diminutive 
enclosed  plot  of  land.  The  house  was  situated  on  the  west 
side  of  St.  Andrew's  Hill,  fonuerly  otherwise  termed 
Puddle  Hill  or  Puddle  Dock  Hill,  and  it  was  either 
partially  on  or  very  near  the  locality  now  and  for  more 
than  two  centuries  known  as  Ireland  Yard.  At  the  bot- 
tom of  the  hill  was  Puddle  Dock,  a  narrow  creek  of  the 

166 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

Thames  which  may  yet  be  traced,  with  its  repulsive  very 
gradually  inclined  surface  of  mud  at  low  water,  and,  at 
high,  an  admirable  representative  of  its  name.  Stow,  in 
his  Survay  of  London,  ed.  1603,  p.  41,  mentions  "a  water 
gate  at  Puddle  Wharfe,  of  one  Puddle  that  kept  a  wharfe 
on  the  west  side  thereof,  and  now  of  puddle  water,  by 
meanes  of  many  horses  watred  there."  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  observe  that  every  vestige  of  the  Shake- 
pearean  house  was  obliterated  in  the  great  fire  of  1666. 
So  complete  was  the  destruction  of  all  this  quarter  of 
London  that,  perhaps,  the  only  fragment  of  its  ancient 
buildings  that  remained  to  the  present  century  is  a  door- 
way of  the  old  church  or  priory  of  the  Blackfriars,  a  relic 
which  was  afterwards  built  into  the  outer  wall  of  a  parish 
lumber-house  adjoining  St.  Anne's  burying  ground. 

The  Globe  Theater  was  destroyed  by  fire  on  Tuesday, 
June  29,  1613.  The  great  dramatist  was  probably  at 
Stratford-on-Avon  at  the  time  of  this  lamentable  occur- 
rence. At  all  events,  his  name  is  not  mentioned  in  any 
of  the  notices  of  the  calamity,  nor  is  there  a  probability 
that  he  was  the  author  of  the  new  drama  on  the  history 
of  Henry  VIII,  which  was  then  produced,  the  first  one  on 
tlie  public  stage  in  which  the  efforts  of  the  dramatist 
were  subordinated  to  theatrical  display.  It  is  true  that 
some  of  the  historical  incidents  in  the  piece  that  was  in 
course  of  representation  when  the  accident  occurred  are 
also  introduced  into  Shakespeare's  play,  but  it  is  not  likely 
that  there  was  any  other  resemblance  between  the  two 
works.  Among  the  actors  engaged  at  the  theater  on  this 
fatal  day  were  Burbage,  Hcmmings,  Condell,  and  one 
who  enacted  the  part  of  the  Fool,  the  two  last  being  so 
dilatory    in    quitting   the    building    that    fears    were   en- 

167 


Life  WILLIAM 

tertained  for  their  safety.  Up  to  this  period,  therefore, 
it  may  reasonably  be  inferred  that  the  stage-fool  had  been 
introduced  into  every  play  on  the  subject  of  Henry  VIII, 
so  that  when  Shakespeare's  pageant-drama  appeared  some 
time  afterwards,  the  prologue  is  careful  to  inform  the 
audience  that  there  was  to  be  a  novel  treatment  of  the 
history  divested  of  some  of  the  former  accompaniments. 
This  theor}^  of  a  late  date  is  in  consonance  with  the  in- 
ternal evidence.  The  temperate  introduction  of  lines  with 
the  hypermetrical  syllable  has  often  a  pleasing  effect,  but 
during  the  last  few  years  of  the  poet's  career,  their  im- 
moderate use  was  affected  by  other  dramatists,  and 
although,  for  the  most  part,  Shakespeare's  meter  was  a  free 
offspring  of  the  ear,  owing  little  but  its  generic  form  to 
his  predecessors  and  contemporaries,  it  appears  certain 
that,  in  the  present  instance,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  over- 
ruled by  this  disagreeable  innovation. 

When  Shakespeare's  King  Henry  VIII  was  produced, 
the  character  of  the  King  was  undertaken  by  Lowin,  a 
very  accomplished  actor.  This  fact,  which  was  stated  on 
the  authority  of  an  old  manuscript  note  in  a  copy  of  the 
second  folio  preserved  at  Windsor  Castle,  is  confirmed 
by  Downes,  in  1708,  and  by  Roberts,  the  actor,  in  a 
tract  published  in  1729,  the  latter  observing, — "I  am  apt 
to  think,  he  (Lowin)  did  not  rise  to  his  perfection  and 
most  exalted  state  in  the  theater  till  after  Burbage,  tho' 
he  play'd  what  we  call  second  and  third  characters  in 
his  time  and  particularly  Henry  VIII  originally ;  from  an 
observation  of  whose  acting  it  in  his  later  days  Sir  Wil- 
liam Davenant  convey'd  his  instructions  to  Mr.  Betterton." 
According  to  Downes,  Betterton  was  instructed  in  the 
acting  of  the  part  by  Davenant,  "who  had  it  from  old  Mr. 

168 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

Lowin,  that  had  his  instructions  from  Mr.  Shakespeare 
himself."  There  is  a  stage-tradition  that,  in  Shakespeare's 
drama,  as  was  also  probably  the  case  in  all  the  old  plays  on 
the  subject,  the  King's  exclamation  of  ha  was  peculiarly 
emphasized.  A  story  told  by  Fuller  of  a  boy-actor  in 
the  part  whose  feeble  utterance  of  this  particle  occasioned  a 
colleague  to  warn  him  that,  if  he  did  not  pronounce  it  more 
vigorously,  his  Parliament  would  never  give  him  "a  penny 
of  mone}^" 

Shortly  before  the  destruction  of  the  Globe  Theater 
in  1613,  and  in  the  same  month  of  June,  there  was  a 
malicious  bit  of  gossip  in  circulation  at  Stratford-on-Avon 
respecting  Mrs.  Hall,  Shakespeare's  eldest  daughter,  and 
one  Ralph  Smith.  The  rumor  was  traced  to  an  indi- 
vidual of  the  name  of  Lane,  who  was  accordingly  sum- 
moned to  the  Ecclesiastical  Court  to  atone  for  the  offense. 
The  case  was  opened  at  Worcester  on  July  15,  1613,  the 
poet's  friend,  Robert  Whatcot,  being  the  chief  witness 
on  behalf  of  the  plaintiff.  Nothing  beyond  the  formal 
proceedings  in  the  suit  has  been  recox'dcd,  but  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  Lane  was  one  of  those  mean  social 
basilisks  who  attack  the  personal  honor  of  any  one  whom 
they  may  happen  to  be  offended  with.  Slanderers,  how- 
ever, are  notorious  cowards.  Neither  the  defendant  nor 
his  proctor  ventured  to  appear  before  the  court,  and,  in 
the  end,  the  lady's  character  was  vindicated  by  the  ex- 
communication of  the  former  on  July  27. 

When  itinerant  preachers  visited  Stratford-on-Avon 
it  was  the  fashion  in  those  days  for  the  Corporation 
to  make  them  complimentary  offerings.  In  the  spring 
of  the  following  year,  1614,  one  of  these  gentlemen  ar- 
rived in  town,  and  being  either  quartered  at  New  Place, 

169 


Life  WILLIAM 

or  spending  a  few  hours  in  that  house,  was  there  pre- 
sented by  the  municipal  authorities  with  one  quart  of 
sack  and  another  of  claret.  There  is  no  evidence  that 
Shakespeare  participated  in  the  clerical  festivity,^  the 
earliest  notice  of  him  in  this  year  being  in  July,  when 
John  Combe,  one  of  the  leading  inhabitants,  died  bequeath- 
ing him  the  then  handsome  legacy  of  £5.  It  is  clear, 
therefore,  that,  at  the  time  the  will  was  made,  there  was 
no  unfriendliness  between  the  two  parties,  and  that  the 
lines  commencing,  "Ten-in-the-hundred,"  if  genuine,  must 
have  been  composed  at  a  later  period.  The  first  two  lines 
of  that  mock  elegy  are,  however,  undoubtedly  spurious, 
and  are  omitted  in  the  earliest  discovered  version  of  it, 
dated  1630,  preserved  at  Thirlestane  House.  There  is, 
moreover,  no  reason  for  believing  that  Combe  was  an 
usurious  money-lender,  ten  per  cent  being  then  the  legal 
and  ordinary  rate  of  interest.  That  rate  was  not  lowered 
until  after  the  death  of  Shakespeare. 

The  Globe  Theater  which  had  been  rebuilt  at  a  very 
large  cost,  had  then  been  recently  opened ;  and  Cham- 
berlain, writing  from  London  on  June  30,  1614,  to  a 
lady  at  Venice,  says,  "I  heare  much  speach  of  this  new 
playhouse,  which  is  saide  to  be  the  fayrest  that  ever  was 
in  England." 

In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  1614,  there  was  great 
excitement  at  Stratford-on-Avon  respecting  an  attempted 
enclosure  of  a  large  portion  of  the  neighboring  common- 
fields, — not  commons,  as  so  many  biographers  have  in- 
advertently stated.  The  design  was  resisted  by  the 
Corporation,  under  the  natural  impression  that,  if  it  were 
realized,  both  the  number  of  agricultural  employees 
and  the  value  of  the  tithes  would  be  seriously  diminished. 

170 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

There  is  no  doubt  that  this  would  have  been  the  case, 
and,  as  might  have  been  expected,  Wilhani  Combe,  the 
squire  of  Welcombe,  who  originated  the  movement,  en- 
countered a  determined  and,  in  tiie  end,  a  successful  op- 
position. He  spared,  however,  no  exertions  to  accomplish 
the  object,  and,  in  many  instances,  if  we  may  believe 
contemporary  allegations,  toranented  the  poor  and  coaxed 
the  rich  into  an  acquiescence  with  his  views.  It  appears 
most  probable  that  Shakespeare  was  one  of  the  latter  who 
were  so  influenced,  and  that,  among  perhaps  other  in- 
ducements, he  was  allured  to  the  unpopular  side  by 
Combe's  agent,  one  Replingham,  guaranteeing  him  from 
prospective  loss.  However  that  may  be,  it  is  certain  that 
the  poet  was  in  favor  of  the  enclosures,  for,  on  December 
23,  the  Corporation  addressed  a  letter  of  remonstrance  to 
him  on  the  subject,  and  another  on  the  same  day  to  a 
Mr.  Manwaring.  The  latter,  who  had  been  practically 
bribed  by  some  land  arrangements  at  Welcombe,  under- 
took to  protect  the  interests  of  Shakespeare,  so  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  three  parties  were  acting  in  unison. 

It  appears  that  Shakespeare  was  in  the  metropolis  when 
the  Corporation  decided  upon  the  expostulary  letter  of 
December  23,  1614,  and  that  he  had  arrived  there  on 
Wednesday,  November  16,  almost  certainly,  in  those  days 
of  arduous  travel,  spending  the  entire  interval  in  London. 
We  are  indebted  for  the  knowledge  of  the  former  cir- 
cumstances to  the  diary  of  Thomas  Greene,  the  town- 
clerk  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  who  has  recorded  in  that  man- 
uscript the  following  too  brief,  but  still  extremely  curious, 
notices  of  the  great  dramatist  In  connection  with  the  sub- 
ject of  the  enclosures: 


171 


Life  WILLIAM 

a. — Jovis,  17  Nov.,  my  cosen  Shakspeare  comyng  yesterday  to 
towne,  I  went  to  see  him  how  he  did.  He  told  me  that  they  assured 
him  they  ment  to  inclose  noe  further  then  to  Gospell  Bushe,  and  soe 
upp  straight  (leavyng  out  part  of  the  Dyngles  to  the  Field)  to  the 
Gate  in  Clopton  hedge,  and  take  in  Salisburyes  peece;  and  that  they 
mean  in  Aprill  to  survey  the  land,  and  then  to  gyve  satisfaccion,  and 
not  before;  and  he  and  Mr.  Hall  say  they  think  ther  will  be  nothyng 
done  at  all. 

b. — 23  Dec.  A  haU.  Lettres  wryten,  on  to  Mr.  Maneryng,  another 
to  Mr.  Shakspeare,  with  almost  all  the  companies  handes  to  eyther. 
I  alsoe  wrytte  of  myself  to  ray  cosen  Shakspear  the  coppyes  of  aU 
our  actes,  and  then  also  a  not  of  the  inconvenyences  wold  happen 
by  the  inclosure. 

c. — 9  Jan.  1614.  Mr.  Replyngham,  28  Octobris,  article  with  Mr. 
Shakspear,  and  then  I  was  putt  in  by  T.  Lucas. 

d. — 11  Januarii,  1614.  Mr.  Manyryng  and  his  agreement  for  me 
with  my  cosen  Shakspeare. 

e. — Sept.  Mr.  Shakspeare  tellyng  J.  Greene  that  I  was  not  able 
to  beare  the  encloseing  of  Welcombe. 

Greene  was  in  London  at  the  date  of  the  first  entry, 
and  at  Stratford  at  that  of  the  second.  The  exact  day 
on  which  the  fifth  memorandum  was  written  is  not  given, 
but  it  was  certainly  penned  before  September  5,  Why 
the  last  observation  should  have  been  chronicled  at  all  is 
a  mystery,  but  the  note  has  a  mournful  interest  as  the 
register  of  the  latest  recorded  spoken  words  of  the  great 
dramatist.  They  were  uttered  in  the  autumn  of  the  year 
1615,  when  the  end  was  very  near  at  hand. 

Had  it  not  been  for  its  untimely  termination,  the  con- 
cluding period  of  Shakespeare's  life  would  have  been  re- 
garded with  unmixed  pleasure.  It  "was  spent,"  observes 
Rowe,  "as  all  men  of  good  sense  will  wish  theirs  may  be, 
in  ease,  retirement,  and  conversation  of  his  friends."  The 
latter  were  not  restricted  to  his  provincial  associates,  for 
he  retained  his  literary  intimacies  until  the  end;  while  it 
is  clear,  from  what  is  above  recorded,  that  his  retirement 
to  Stratford  did  not  exclude  an   occasional  visit  to  the 

172 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

metropolis.  He  had,  moreover,  the  practical  wisdom  to  be 
contented  with  the  fortune  his  incessant  labors  had  se- 
cured. He  had  gathered,  writes  his  first  real  biographer, 
"an  estate  equal  to  his  occasion,  and,  in  that,  to  his  wisJh,'' 
language  which  suggests  a  traditional  belief  that  the  days 
of  accumulation  had  passed.  In  other  words,  he  was  one 
of  the  few  who  knew  when  to  commence  the  enjoyment 
of  acquired  wealth,  avoiding  the  too  common  error  of 
desiring  more  when  in  full  possession  of  whatever  there 
is  in  the  ability  of  money  to  contribute  to  happiness. 

It  is  not  likely  that  the  poet,  with  his  systematic  fore- 
thought, had  hitherto  neglected  to  provide  for  the  ulti- 
mate devolution  of  his  estates,  but,  as  usual,  it  is  onlj'  the 
latest  will  that  has  been  preserved.  This  important  record 
was  prepared  in  January,  1616,  either  by  or  under  the 
directions  of  Francis  Collins,  a  solicitor  then  residing 
at  Warwick,  and  it  appears,  from  the  date  given  to  the 
superscription  and  from  some  of  the  erasures  in  the  man- 
uscript itself,  that  it  was  a  corrected  draft  ready  for  an 
engrossment  that  was  to  have  been  signed  by  the  testator 
on  Thursday,  the  twenty-fifth  of  that  month.  For  some 
unknown  reason,  but  most  probably  owing  to  circumstances 
relating  to  Judith's  matrimonial  engagement,  the  appoint- 
ment for  that  day  was  postponed,  at  Shakespeare's  re- 
quest, in  anticipation  of  further  instructions,  and  before 
Collins  had  ordered  a  fair  copy  to  be  made.  The  draft, 
therefore,  remained  in  his  custody,  his  client  being  then 
"in  perfect  health,"  and  taking  no  doubt  a  lively  interest 
in  all  that  concerned  his  daughter's  man'iage.  Under  such 
conditions  a  few  weeks  easily  pass  away  unheeded,  so  that, 
when  he  was  unexpectedly  seized  with  a  dangerous  fever 
in  March,  it  is  not  very  surprising  that  the  business  of 

173 


Life  iWILLIAM 

the  will  should  be  found  to  have  been  neglected.  Hencp 
it  was  that  his  lawyer  was  hurriedly  summoned  from  War- 
wick, that  it  was  not  considered  advisable  to  wait  for  the 
preparation  of  a  regular  transcript,  and  that  the  papers 
were  signed  after  a  few  more  alterations  had  been  hastily 
effected.  An  unusual  number  of  witnesses  were  called  in 
to  secure  the  validity  of  the  informally  written  document, 
its  draftsman,  according  to  the  almost  invariable  custom  at 
that  time,  being  the  first  to  sign. 

The  corrected  draft  of  the  will  was  so  hastily  revised 
at  Shakespeare's  bedside,  that  even  the  alteration  of  the 
day  of  the  month  was  overlooked.  It  is  probable  that 
the  melancholy  gathering  at  New  Place  happened  some- 
what later  than  March  25,  the  fourth  Aveek  after  a  serious 
attack  of  fever  being  generally  the  most  fatal  period. 
We  may  at  all  events  safely  assume  that,  if  death  resulted 
from  such  a  cause  on  April  23,  the  seizure  could  not  have 
occurred  much  before  the  end  of  the  preceding  month. 
It  is  satisfactory  to  know  that  the  invalid's  mind  was  as 
yet  unclouded,  several  of  the  interlineations  that  were  added 
on  the  occasion  having  obviously  emanated  from  him- 
self. And  it  is  not  necessary  to  follow  the  general  opinion 
that  the  signatures  betray  the  tremulous  hand  of  illness, 
although  portions  of  them  may  indicate  that  they  were 
written  from  an  inconvenient  position.  It  may  be  observed 
that  the  words,  hy  me,  which,  the  autographs  excepted,  are 
the  only  ones  in  the  poet's  handwriting  known  to  exist, 
appear  to  have  been  penned  with  ordinary  firmness. 

The  first  interlineation,  that  which  refers  to  Judith,  was 
apparently  the  result  of  her  marriage,  an  event  considered 
as  a  probability  on  January  25,  and  shortly  afterwards, 
that  is  to  say  in  less  than  three  weeks,  definitely  arranged. 

174- 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

That  the  poet,  as  is  so  often  assumed,  was  ignorant,  in 
January,  of  an  attachment  which  resulted  in  a  marriage  in 
February,  is  altogether  incredible.  It  is  especially  so  when 
it  is  recollected  that  the  Quiney  and  Shakespeare  families 
were  at  least  on  visiting  terms,  and  all  residing  in  a  small 
country  town,  where  the  rudiment  of  every  love-afFair 
must  have  been  immediately  enrolled  among  the  desirable 
ingredients  of  the  gossips'  caldron.  But  there  is  evidence 
in  the  will  itself  that  Shakespeare  not  only  contemplated 
Judith's  marriage,  but  was  extremely  anxious  for  her  hus- 
band to  settle  on  her  an  estate  in  land  equivalent  in  value 
to  the  bequest  of  £150.  He  makes  the  failure  of  that  set- 
tlement an  absolute  bar  to  the  husband's  life  or  other  per- 
sonal interest  in  the  money,  rigidly  securing  the  integrity 
of  the  capital  against  the  possibility  of  the  condition  being 
evaded  so  long  as  Judith  or  any  of  her  issue  were  living. 
The  singular  limitation  of  the  three  years  from  the  date  of 
the  will,  not  from  that  of  the  testator's  decease,  may  per- 
haps be  explained  by  the  possibility  of  Thomas  Quiney  hav- 
ing a  landed  reversion  accruing  to  him  at  the  end  of  that 
period,  such  as  a  bequest  contingent  on  his  reaching  the 
as:e  of  thirtv.  However  that  mav  be,  it  seems  certain  that 
the  interlineated  words,  in  discharge  of  her  marriage 
porcion,  must  have  reference  to  an  engagement  on  the 
part  of  Shakespeare,  one  entered  into  after  the  will  was 
first  drawn  up  and  before  that  paragraph  was  inserted, 
to  give  Judith  the  sum  of  £100  on  the  occasion  of  her 
marriage  with  Thomas  Quiney.  That  event  took  place  in 
their  native  town  on  Saturday,  February  10,  1616.  There 
was  some  reason  for  accelerating  the  nuptials,  for  they 
were  married  without  a  license,  an  irregularity  for  which, 
a  few  weeks  aftei-^Nards,  they  were  fined  and  threatened 

175 


Life  WILLIAM 

with  excommunication  by  the  ecclesiastical  court  at  Wor- 
cester. No  evidence,  however,  has  been  discovered  to  war- 
rant the  frequent  suggestion  that  the  poet  disapproved  of 
tl>e  aUiancc.  So  far  as  is  known,  there  was  nothing  in  the 
bridegi'oom's  position  or  then  character  to  authorize  a  par- 
ent's opposition,  nor  have  good  reasons  been  adduced  for 
the  suspicion  that  there  was  ever  any  unpleasantness  be- 
tween the  married  Quineys  and  their  Shakespeare  connec- 
tions. Their  first-born  son  was  christened  after  the  great 
dramatist,  and  they  remained  on  good  terms  with  the  Halls. 
Judith,  the  first  and  one  of  the  most  prominent  legatees 
named  in  the  will,  was  a  tenant-for-life  in  remainder  under 
the  provisions  of  that  document,  so  there  is  not  the  least 
reason  for  suspecting  that  the  partiality  therein  exhibited 
to  the  testator's  eldest  daughter  was  otherwise  than  one 
ehcited  by  aristocratic  tendencies.  It  is  not  likely  that  it 
was  viewed  in  any  other  light  by  the  younger  sister,  v,^ho 
received  what  were  for  those  days  exceedingly  liberal 
pecuniary  legacies,  while  the  special  gift  to  her  of  "my 
broad  silver  gilt  bole"  is  an  unmistakable  testimony  of  af- 
fection. Shakespeare,  in  devising  his  real  estates  to  one 
child,  followed  the  example  of  his  maternal  grandfather 
and  the  general  custom  of  landed  proprietors.  He  evi- 
dently desired  that  their  undivided  ownership  should  con- 
tinue in  the  family,  but  that  he  had  no  other  motive  may  be 
inferred  from  the  absence  of  conditions  for  the  perpetua- 
tion of  his  own  name. 

Following  the  bequests  to  the  Quineys  are  those  to  the 
poet's  sister  Joan,  then  in  her  forty-seventh  year,  and  five 
pounds  a-picce  to  his  nephews,  her  three  children,  lads  of 
the  respective  ages  of  sixteen,  eleven,  and  eight.  To  this 
lady,  who  became  a  widow  very  shortly  before  his  own 

17G 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

decease,  he  leaves,  besides  a  contingent  reversionary  interest, 
his  wearing  apparel,  twenty  pounds  in  money,  and  a  life- 
interest  in  the  Henley  Street  property,  the  last  being  sub- 
ject to  the  manorial  rent  of  twelve-pence.  This  limitation 
of  real  estate  to  Mrs.  Hart,  the  anxiety  displayed  to  secure 
the  integrity  of  the  little  Rowington  copyhold,  and  the  sub- 
-sequent  devises  to  his  eldest  daughter,  exhibit  very  clearly 
his  determination  to  place  under  legal  settlement  every 
foot  of  land  that  he  possessed.  With  this  object  in  view, 
he  settles  his  estates  in  tail  male,  with  the  usual  remainders 
over,  all  of  which,  however,  so  far  as  the  predominant 
intention  was  concerned,  turned  out  to  be  merely  exponents 
of  the  vanity  of  human  wishes.  Before  half  a  century  liad 
elapsed,  all  possibility  of  the  continuance  of  the  family 
entail  had  been  dispelled. 

The  most  celebrated  interlineation  is  that  in  which  Shake- 
speare leaves  his  widow  his  "second-best  bed  with  the 
furniture,"  the  first-best  being  that  generally  reserved 
for  visitors,  and  one  which  may  possibly  have  descended 
as  a  family  heir-loom,  becoming  in  that  way  the  'ande- 
visable  property  of  his  eldest  daughter.  Bedsteads  were 
sometimes  of  elaborate  workmanship,  and  gifts  of  them  are 
often  to  be  met  with  in  ancient  wills.  The  notion  of  in- 
difference to  his  wife,  so  frequently  deduced  from  the  above- 
mentioned  entry,  cannot  be  sustained  on  that  account. 
So  far  from  being  considered  of  trifling  import,  beds  were 
even  sometimes  selected  as  portions  of  compensation  for 
dower;  and  bequests  of  personal  articles  of  the  most  in- 
significant description  were  never  formerly  held  in  any 
light  but  that  of  marks  of  affection.  Among  the  smaller 
legacies  of  fonner  days  may  be  enumerated  kettles,  chairs, 
.  gowns,  hats,  pewter  cups,  feather  bolsters,  and  cullenders. 

177 


Life  WILLIAM 

In  the  year  1642  one  John  Shakespeare  of  Budbrook,  near 
Wanvick,  considered  it  a  suiTicient  mark  of  respect  to  his 
father-in-law  to  leave  him  "his  best  boots." 

The  expression  "second-best"  has,  however,  been  so  re- 
peatedly and  so  seriously  canvassed  to  the  testator's  preju- 
dice, it  is  important  to  produce  evidence  of  its  strictly 
inoffensive  character.  Such  evidence  is  to  be  found  in 
instances  of  its  testamentary  use  in  cases  where  an  approach 
to  a  disparaging  significance  could  not  have  been  enter- 
tained. Thus  the  younger  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  of  Charle- 
cote,  in  a  will  made  in  the  year  1600,  bequeathed  to  his 
son  Richard  "my  second-best  horse  and  f urnyture" ;  and 
among  the  legacies  given  by  Bartholomew  Hathaway  to  '"is 
son  Edmund,  in  1621,  is  "my  second  brass  pott."  But 
there  is  another  example  that  is  conclusive  in  itself,  without 
other  testimony,  of  the  position  which  is  here  advocated. 
It  is  in  the  will,  dated  in  April,  1610,  of  one  John  Harris, 
a  well-to-do  notary  of  Lincoln,  who,  while  leaving  his  wife 
a  freehold  estate  and  other  property,  also  bequeaths  to  her 
"the  standing  bedstead  in  the  litle  chaumber,  with  the 
second-best  featherbed  I  have,  with  a  whole  furniture 
therto  belonging,  and  allso  a  trundle-bedsted  with  a 
featherbed,  and  the  furniture  therto  belonging,  and  six 
payer  of  sheetes,  three  payer  of  the  better  sorte  and  three 
payer  of  the  meaner  sorte."  This  extremely  interesting 
parallel  disposes  of  the  most  plausible  reason  that  has  ever 
Taeen  given  for  the  notion  that  there  was  at  one  time  some 
kind  of  estrangement  between  Shakespeare  and  his  Anne. 
Let  us  be  permitted  to  add  that  the  opportunity  which  has 
thus  presented  itself  of  refuting  such  aspersion  is  more 
than  satisfactory, — it  is  a  consolation ;  for  there  are  few 
surer  tests  of  the  want  either  of  a  man's  real  amiability  or 

178 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

of  his  moral  conduct  than  his  incompetence,  excepting  in 
very  special  cases,  to  remain  on  affectionate  terms  with  the 
partner  of  his  choice.  And  it  is  altogther  impossible  that 
there  could  have  been  an  exculpatory  special  case  in  the 
present  instance. 

The  conjugal  history  of  Shakespeare  would  not  have 
been  so  tarnished  had  more  regard  been  given  to  con- 
temporary practices.  It  has  generally  been  considered 
that  the  terms  of  the  marriage-bond  favor  a  suspicion  of 
haste  and  irregularity,  but  it  will  be  seen  on  examination 
that  they  are  merely  copies  of  the  ordinary  forms  in  use 
at  Worcester.  We  should  not  inspect  these  matters 
through  the  glasses  of  modern  life.  For  the  gift  of  a  bed 
let  us  substitute  that  of  one  of  its  present  correlatives,  a 
valuable  diamond-ring  for  example,  and  we  should  then 
instinctively  feel  not  only  that  the  gift  was  one  of  affection, 
but  that  its  isolation  was  most  probably  due  to  the  cir- 
cumstance of  a  special  provision  of  livelihood  for  her  being 
unnecessary.  This  was  undoubtedly  the  case  in  the  pres- 
ent instance.  The  interests  of  the  survivor  were  nearly 
always  duly  considered  in  the  voluntary  settlements  for- 
merly so  often  made  between  husband  and  wife,  but  even  if 
there  had  been  no  such  arrangements  in  this  case,  the  latter 
would  have  been  well  provided  for  by  free-bench  in  the 
Rowington  copyhold,  and  by  dower  on  the  rest  of  the 
property. 

It  is  curious  that  the  only  real  ground  for  a  belief  in 
any  kind  of  estrangement  between  them  should  not  hitherto 
have  been  noticed,  but  something  to  favor  that  impression 
may  be  fancied  to  be  visible  in  Shakespeare's  neglect  to  give 
his  widow  a  life-interest  either  in  their  own  residence  at 
New  Place  or  in  its  furniture.     However  liberally  she  may 

179 


Life  WILLIAM 

have  been  provided  for,  that  circumstance  would  hardly 
reconcile  us  to  the  somewhat  ungracious  divorce  of  a  wife 
from  the  control  of  her  own  household.  It  is  clear  that 
there  must  have  been  some  valid  reason  for  this  arrange- 
ment, for  the  grant  of  such  an  interest  would  not  have 
affected  the  testator's  evident  desire  to  perpetuate  a  family 
estate,  and  there  appears  to  be  no  other  obvious  design 
with  which  a  limited  gift  of  the  mansion  could  have  inter- 
fered. Perhaps  the  only  theory  that  would  be  consistent 
with  the  terms  of  the  will,  and  with  the  deep  affection  which 
she  is  traditionally  recorded  to  have  entertained  for  him  to 
the  end  of  her  life,  is  the  possibility  of  her  having  been 
afflicted  with  some  chronic  infirmity  of  a  nature  that  pre- 
cluded all  hope  of  recovery.  In  such  a  case,  to  relieve  her 
from  household  anxieties  and  select  a  comfortable  apart- 
ment at  New  Place,  where  she  would  be  under  the  care  of 
an  affectionate  daughter  and  an  experienced  physician, 
would  have  been  the  wisest  and  kindest  measure  that  could 
have  been  adopted. 

It  has  been  observed  that  a  man's  character  is  more  fully 
revealed  in  a  will  than  in  any  other  less  solemn  document, 
and  the  experiences  of  most  people  will  tend  to  favor  the 
impression  that  nothing  is  so  likely  to  be  a  really  faithful 
record  of  natural  impulses.  Dismissing,  as  unworthy  of 
consideration,  the  possibility  of  there  having  been  an  inten- 
tional neglect  of  his  wife,  it  is  pleasing  to  notice  in  Shakes- 
peare's indications  of  the  designer  having  been  a  conscien- 
tious and  kind-hearted  man,  and  one  who  was  devoid  of  any 
sort  of  affectation.  Independently  of  the  bequests  that 
amply  provided  for  his  children  and  sister,  there  are  found 
in  it  a  very  unusual  number  of  legacies  to  personal  friends, 
and  if  some  of  its  omissions,  such  as  those  of  reference  to 

180 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

the  Hathawajs,  appear  to  be  mysterious,  it  must  be  recol- 
lected that  wc  are  entirely  unacquainted  with  family 
arrangements,  the  knowledge  of  some  of  which  might  ex- 
plain them  all.  It  has,  moreover,  been  objected  that  "the 
will  contains  less  of  sentiment  than  might  be  wished,"  that 
is  to  say,  it  may  be  presumed,  by  those  who  fancy  that  the 
great  dramatist  must  have  been,  by  virtue  of  his  art,  of  an 
aesthetic  and  sentimental  temperament.  When  Mr.  West 
of  Alscot  was  the  first,  in  1747,  to  exhibit  a  biographical 
interest  in  this  relic,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Greene,  master  of  the 
grammar-school  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  who  made  a  tran- 
script for  him,  was  also  disappointed  with  its  contents,  and 
could  not  help  observing  that  it  was  "absolutely  void  of  the 
least  particle  of  that  spirit  which  animated  our  great  poet.'* 
It  might  be  thought  from  this  impeachment  that  the  worthy 
preceptor  expected  to  find  It  written  in  blank-verse. 

The  preponderance  of  Shakespeare's  domestic  over  his 
literary  sympatliies  is  strikingly  exhibited  in  this  final 
record.  Not  only  is  there  no  mention  of  Drayton,  Ben 
Jonson,  or  any  of  his  other  literary  friends,  but  an  entire 
absence  of  reference  to  his  own  compositions.  When 
these  facts  are  considered  adjunctively  with  his  want  of 
vigilance  in  not  having  previously  secured  authorized  pub- 
lications of  any  one  of  his  dramas,  and  with  other  episodes 
of  his  life,  it  is  difficult  to  resist  the  conviction  that  he  was 
indifferent  to  the  posthumous  fate  of  his  own  writings. 
The  editors  of  the  first  folio  speak,  indeed,  in  a  tone  of 
regret  at  his  death  having  rendered  a  personal  edition  an 
impossibility ;  but  they  merely  allude  to  this  as  a  matter  of 
fact  or  destiny,  and  as  a  reason  for  the  devolution  of  the 
task  upon  themselves.  They  nowhere  say,  as  they  might 
naturally  have  done  had  it  been  the  case,  that  the  poet 

181 


Life  WILLIAM 

himself  had  meditated  such  an  undertaking,  or  even  that 
the  shghtest  preparations  for  it  had  been  made  during  the 
years  of  his  retirement.  They  distinctly  assure  us,  how- 
ever, that  Shakespeare  was  in  the  habit  of  furnishing  them 
with  the  autograph  manuscripts  of  his  plays,  so  that,  if  he 
had  retained  transcripts  of  them  for  his  own  ultimate  use, 
or  had  afterwards  collected  them,  it  is  reasonable  to  assume 
that  they  would  have  used  his  materials  and  not  been  so 
careful  to  mention  that  they  themselves  were  the  only 
gatherers.  It  may,  indeed,  be  safely  averred  that  the  lead- 
ing facts  in  the  case,  especially  the  apathy  exhibited  by  the 
poet  in  his  days  of  leisure,  all  tend  to  the  persuasion  that 
the  composition  of  his  immortal  dramas  was  mainly  stimu- 
lated by  pecuniary  results  that  were  desired  for  the  realiza- 
tion of  social  and  domestic  advantages.  It  has  been  fre- 
quently observed  that,  if  this  view  be  accepted,  it  is  at  the 
expense  of  investing  him  with  a  mean  and  sordid  disposi- 
tion.  Such  a  conclusion  may  well  be  questioned.  Literary 
ambition  confers  no  moral  grace,  while  its  possession,  as  it 
might  in  Shakespeare's  case,  too  often  jeopardizes  the 
attainment  of  independence  as  well  as  the  paramount  claims 
of  family  and  kindred.  That  a  solicitude  in  these  latter 
directions  should  have  predominated  over  vanity  is  a  fact 
that  should  enhance  our  appreciation  of  his  personal  char- 
acter, however  it  may  affect  the  direct  gratitude  of  poster- 
ity for  the  infinite  pleasure  and  instiniction  derived  from 
his  writings. 

One  more  section  of  the  poet's  will  has  yet  to  be  con- 
sidered, that  solemn  one  which  has  been  so  frequently  held 
to  express  the  limits  of  his  faith ;  but  the  terms  in  which 
the  soul  was  devised  were  almost  invariably  those  that  were 
thought  to  reflect  the  doctrine  of  the  prevailing  rehgion, 

182 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

so  that  the  opening  clause  is  no  more  a  declaration  that 
he  was  a  Protestant  than  is  the  bequest  by  his  maternal 
grandfather,  Robert  Arden,  of  "mj  soul  to  Almighty  God, 
and  to  our  blessed  Lady,  Saint  Mary,  and  to  all  the  holy 
company  of  Heaven,"  a  proof  in  itself  that  the  last-named 
testator  was  a  Catholic.     Neither  can  it  be  determined  that 
Shakespeare  was  one  or  the  other  from  what  is  fancied  to 
be  the  internal  evidence  on  the  subject  afforded  by  his 
writings,  for  this  has  been  the  theme  of  innumerable  essays 
with  the  result  that  the  advocates  for  his  Protestantism  and 
those  for  his  Catholicism  are  as  nearly  as  may  be  on  a 
level  in  respect  to  the  validity  of  their  inferences.     Those 
who  endeavor  to  ascertain  a  dramatist's  own  religious  senti- 
ments   from    the   utterances    of   his    characters, — each    of 
whom   should   be   to   himself   religiously   true   at   the   due 
moments  of  religious  expression, — or  from  the  variations 
in  his  mode  of  treating  materials  that  had  been  dramatically 
fashioned  by  his  predecessors,  can  only  be  successful  amid 
the  works  of  less  impartial  artists.     With  respect  to  allu- 
sions  to   facts   that   are   dependent   upon   knowledge   and 
become  in  that  way  a  species  of  evidence,  there  is  only  one, 
the  reference  to  evening-mass,  which  is  of  practical  value 
in  the  enquiry ;  but  this,  assuming  it  to  be  as  hopelessly 
incorrect  as  is  generally  represented,  is  either  a  casual  over- 
sight or  due  to  the  very  little  opportunity  that  the  author 
could  have  had  for  becoming  familiar  with  Catholic  prac- 
tice.    And  if  the  merciless  rigor  with  which  the  Catholic 
ministrations  were  suppressed  is  fairly  borne  in  mind,  no 
heed  will  be  given  to  arguments  based  on  the  resort  of  the 
Shakespeares  to  those  of  the  governmental  Church.     The 
poet,  moreover,  was  educated  under  the  Protestant  direc- 
tion, or  he  would  not  have  been  educated  at  all.     But  there 

183 


Life  WILLIAM 

is  no  doubt  that  John  Shakespeare  nourished  all  the  while 
a  latent  attachment  to  the  old  religion,  and  although,  like 
most  unconverted  confonnists  of  ordinary  discretion  who 
were  exposed  to  the  inquisitorial  tactics  of  the  authorities, 
he  may  have  attempted  to  conceal  his  views  even  from  the 
members  of  his  own  household;  yet  still,  however  deter- 
minatcly  he  may  have  refrained  from  giving  them  expres- 
sion, it  generally  happens  in  such  cases  that  a  wave  from 
the  religious  spirit  of  a  parent  will  imperceptibly  reach 
the  hearts  of  his  children  and  exercise  more  or  less  influ- 
ence on  their  perceptions.     And  this  last  presumption  is  an 
important  consideration  in  assessing  the  degree  of  credit  to 
be  given  to  the  earliest  notice  that  has  come  down  to  us 
respecting  the  character  of  Shakespeare's  own  belief, — the 
assertion  of  Davies  that  "he  died  a  Papist."     That  this  was 
the  local  tradition  in   the  latter  part  of  the   seventeenth 
century  does  not  admit  of  rational  question.     If  the  state- 
ment had  emanated  from  a  man  like  Prynne,  addressing 
fanatics  whose  hatred  of  a  stage  player  would  if  possible 
have   been    intensified   by    the   knowledge    that   he    was    a 
Romanist,  then  indeed  a  legitimate  suspicion  might  have 
been  entertained  of  the  narrator's  integrity ;  but  here  we 
have  the  testimony  of  a  sober  clergyman,  who  could  have 
had  no  conceivable  motive  for  deception,  in  what  is  obvi- 
ously the  casual  note  of  a  provincial  hearsay.     An  element 
of  fact  in  this  testimony  must  be  accepted  in  a  biography 
in  which  the  best,  in  this  instance  the  only,  direct  evidence 
takes  precedence  over  theories  that  are  based  on  mere  credi- 
bilities.    At  the  same  time  it  is  anything  but  necessary 
to  conclude  that  the  great  dramatist  had  very  strong  or 
pronounced  views  on  theological  matters.      If  that  were  the 
case,  it  is  almost  certain  that  there  would  have  been  some 

184 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

other  early  allusion  to  them,  and  perhaps  in  himself  less  of 
that  spirit  of  toleration  for  every  kind  of  opinion 
which  rendered  him  at  home  with  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men, — as  well  as  less  of  that  freedom  from  inflexible 
preconceptions  that  might  have  aff^ected  the  fidelity  of  his 
dramatic  work.  Many  will  hold  that  there  was  sufficient 
of  those  qualities  to  betray  a  general  indifference  to  creeds 
and  rituals,  and,  at  all  events,  whatever  there  was  of  Cathol- 
icism in  his  faith  did  not  exclude  the  maintenance  of  affec- 
tionate relations  with  his  ultra-protestant  son-in-law. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  will,  in  the  list  of  witnesses,  in  the 
monumental  inscription,  in  selection  of  friends,  in  the  his- 
tory of  his  professional  career,  in  the  little  that  tells  of 
his  personal  character, — there  is  nothing,  in  short,  in  a 
single  one  of  the  contemporary  evidences  to  indicate  that 
he  ever  entered  any  of  the  circles  of  religious  partisanship. 
Assuming,  as  we  fairly  may,  that  he  had  a  leaning  to  the 
faith  of  his  ancestors,  we  may  yet  be  sure  that  the  inclina- 
tion was  not  of  a  nature  that  materially  disturbed  the  easy- 
going acquiescence  in  the  conditions  of  his  surrounding 
world  that  added  so  much  to  the  happiness  of  his  later  days. 
With  perhaps  one  exception.  It  is  surely  within  the 
bounds  of  possibility  that  he  gave  utterance  to  that  Inclina- 
tion in  the  course  of  his  last  illness,  and  that  he  then 
declined,  almost  in  the  same  breath  in  which  he  directed  the 
kindly  remembrances  to  his  fellow-actors,  the  offices  of  a 
vicar  who  preached  the  abolition  of  the  stage,  and  regarded 
the  writers  of  plays  as  so  many  Anti-Christs.  This  hypoth- 
esis would  fully  explain  the  currency  of  the  tradition 
recorded  by  Davies,  and  at  the  same  time  meet  the  other 
conditions  of  the  problem. 

There  was  a  funeral  as  well  as  a  marriage  in  the  family 

185 


Life  willia:m 

during  the  last  days  of  Shakespeare.  William  Hart,  who 
was  carrying  on  the  business  of  a  hatter  at  the  premises 
now  known  as  the  Birth-place,  and  who  was  the  husband  of 
the  poet's  sister  Joan,  was  buried  at  Stratford-on-Avon  on 
April  17,  1616.  Before  another  week  had  elapsed,  the 
spirit  of  the  great  dramatist  himself  had  fled. 

Among  the  numerous  popular  errors  of  our  ancestors 
was  the  belief  that  fevers  often  resulted  from  convivial 
indulo-ences.  This  was  the  current  notion  in  England 
until  a  comparatively  recent  period,  and  its  prevalence 
affected  the  traditional  history  of  the  poet's  last  illness. 
The  facts  were  these.  Late  in  the  March  of  this  calam- 
itous year,  or,  accepting  our  computation,  early  in  April, 
Shakespeare  and  his  two  frends,  Drayton  and  Ben  Jonson, 
were  regaling  themselves  at  an  entertainment  in  one  of  the 
taverns  at  Stratford-on-Avon.  It  is  recorded  that  the 
party  was  a  jovial  one,  and  according  to  a  late  but  appar- 
ently genuine  tradition,  when  the  great  dramatist  was 
returning  to  New  Place  in  the  evening,  he  had  taken  more 
wine  than  was  conducive  to  pedestrian  accuracy.  Shortly 
or  immediately  afterwards  he  was  seized  by  the  lamentable 
fever  which  terminated  fatally  on  Tuesday,  April  23,  1616, 
a  day,  which,  according  to  our  present  mode  of  computa- 
tion, would  be  May  3.  The  cause  of  the  malady,  then 
attributed  to  undue  festivity,  would  now  be  readily  dis- 
cernible in  the  wretched  sanitary  conditions  surrounding 
his  residence.  If  truth,  and  not  romance,  is  to  be  invoked, 
were  there  the  woodbine  and  sweet  hone3^suckle  within  reach 
of  the  poet's  death-bed,  their  fragrance  would  have  been 
neutralized  by  their  vicinity  to  middens,  fetid  water- 
cowrses,  mud-walls  and  piggeries. 

The  funeral  was  solemnized  on  tlie  following  Thursday, 

186 


SHAKESPEARE  Life 

April  25,  when  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  great  dramatist 
was  consigned  to  his  final  resting-place  in  the  beautiful 
parish-church  of  his  native  town.  His  remains  were  de- 
posited in  the  chancel,  the  selection  of  the  locality  for  the 
interment  being  due  to  the  circumstance  of  its  then  being 
the  legal  and  customary  burial-place  of  the  owners  of  the 
tithes. 

The  grave  is  situated  near  the  northern  wall  of  the  chan- 
cel, within  a  few  paces  of  the  ancient  chamel-house,  the 
arch  of  the  doorway  that  opened  to  the  latter,  with  its 
antique  corbels,  still  remaining.  The  scpulchcr  was  cov- 
ered with  a  slab  that  bore  the  following  inscription, — 

Good  frend,  for  Iesvs  sake  forbeare 
to  digg  the  dvst  exci,oased  heare ; 

BlESTE    be    the    max    that    SPARES   TIIES    STONES, 

And  cvrst  be  he  that  3io\ts9  jiy  bones. 

- — lines  which,  according  to  an  early  tradition,  were  se- 
lected by  the  poet  himself  for  his  epitaph.  There  is  an- 
other early  but  less  probable  statement  that  they  were  the 
poet's  own  composition ;  but,  at  all  events,  it  may  be  safely 
gathered  that  they  originated  in  some  way  from  an  aver- 
sion on  his  part  to  the  idea  of  a  distui'bance  of  his  remains. 
It  should  be  remembered  that  the  transfer  of  bones  from 
graves  to  the  charnel-house  was  then  an  ordinary  practice 
at  Stratford-on-Avon.  There  has  long  been  a  tradition 
that  Shakespeare's  feelings  on  this  subject  arose  from  a 
reflection  on  the  ghastly  appearance  of  that  receptacle, 
which  the  elder  Ireland,  writing  in  the  year  1795,  describes 
as  then  containing  "the  largest  assemblage  of  human 
bones"  he  had  ever  beheld.  But  whether  this  be  the  truth, 
or  if  it  were  merely  the  natural  wish  of  a  sensitive  and 
thoughtful  mind,  it  is  a  source  of  congratulation  that  tlie 

187 


Life  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

simple  verses  should  have  protected  his  ashes  from  sacrilege- 
The  nearest  approach  to  an  excavation  into  the  grave  of 
Shakespeare  was  made  in  the  summer  of  the  year  1796,  in 
digging  a  vault  in  the  immediate  locality,  when  an  opening 
appeared  which  was  presumed  to  indicate  the  commence- 
ment of  the  site  of  the  bard's  remains.  The  most  scrupu- 
lous care,  however,  was  taken  not  to  disturb  the  neighbor- 
ing earth  in  the  slightest  degree,  the  clerk  having  been 
placed  there,  until  the  brickwork  of  the  adjoining  vault 
was  completed,  to  prevent  anyone  making  an  examination. 
No  relics  whatever  were  visible  through  the  small  opening 
that  thus  presented  itself,  and  as  the  poet  was  buried  in 
the  ground,  not  in  a  vault,  the  chancel  earth,  moreover, 
formerly  absorbing  a  large  degree  of  moisture,  the  great 
probability  is  that  dust  alone  remains.  This  consideration 
may  tend  to  discourage  an  irreverent  opinion  expressed  by 
some,  that  it  is  due  to  the  interests  of  science  to  unfold  to 
the  world  the  material  abode  which  once  held  so  great  an 
intellect.  It  is  not  many  years  since  a  phalanx  of  trouble- 
tombs,  lanterns  and  spades  in  hand,  assembled  in  the  chancel 
at  dead  of  night,  intent  on  disobeying  the  solemn  injunction 
that  the  bones  of  Shakespeare  were  not  to  be  disturbed. 
But  the  supplicatory  lines  prevailed.  There  were  some 
among  the  number  who,  at  the  last  moment,  refused  to 
incur  the  warning  condemnation,  and  so  the  design  was 
happily  abandoned. 


183 


CHRONOLOGICAL  ORDER  OF 
SHAKESPEARE'S  PLAYS 

Malone  Chalmers     Drake 

1.  First  Part  of  Henry  VI 1589  1593 

2.  Second   Part  of   Henry   VI 1591  1595  1592 

3.  Third   Part   of  Henry   VI 1591  1595  1592 

4.  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona 1591  1595  1595 

5.  Comedy    of    Errors 1592  1591  1591 

6.  Richard    II 1593  1596  1596 

7.  Richard    III 1593  1596  1595 

8.  Love's   Labor's   Lost 1594  1592  1591 

9.  Merchant    of    Venice 1594  1597  1597 

10.  A   Midsummer   Night's   Dream 1594  1598  1593 

11.  Romeo  and  Juliet 1596  1592  1593 

12.  King    John 1596  1598  1598 

13.  Taming  of  the  Shrew 1596  1599  1594 

14.  Part  I  of  Henrv  IV 1597  1597  1596 

15.  Part  II  of  Henry  IV 1599  159T  1596 

16.  Henry    V 1599  1597  1599 

17.  As  You  Liiie   It 1599  1602  1600 

18.  Much   Ado   About   Nothing 1600  1599  1599 

19.  Hamlet    1600  1598  1597 

20.  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor 1601  1596  1601 

21.  Troilus  and  Cressida 1602  1610  1601 

22.  Measure    for   Measure 1603  1604  1603 

23.  Henrv    VIII 1603  1613  1602 

24.  Otheilo 1604  1614  1612 

25.  King    Lear 1605  1605  1604 

26.  All's  Well  That   Ends   Well 1606  1606  1598 

27.  Macbetli 1606  1606  1606 

28.  Julius    Caesar 1607  1607  1607 

29.  Twelfth    Night 1607  1613  1613 

30.  Antony    and    Cleopatra 1608  1608  1608 

31.  Cvmbeline 1609  1609  1605 

32.  Timon   of   Athens 1610  1611  1602 

33.  Coriolanus 1610  1619  1609 

34.  Winter's    Tale 1611  1601  1610 

35.  Tlie    Tempest 1611  1613  1611 

36.  Pericles Not  acknowledged  1609 

37.  Titus   Andronicus,  not  acknowledged  by  these  critics,   but  orig- 

inally published  about  1589. 

Shk-1-9  189 


CHIEF  CONTEMPORARY  PLAYS 

Acted        Printed 

Udall,  Ralph  Roister  Doisler 155 J  1567 

Sackville    and    Norton,    Gorboduc     {Ferrex    and 

Porrex)    1563  1565 

Gammer,  Gurton's  Needle 1563?  1575 

Gascoigne,   Supposes   and  Jocasta 1566  1566 

Wilmot,    Tancred   and   Oismunda 1568  1591 

Preston,  Cambises  King  of  Percia 1569  1570 

Whetstone,   Promos  and  Cassandra 1578  1578 

Lyly,    Campaspe 1580-1581  1584- 

Lyly,  Sapho  and  Phao 1585  1584 

Peele,  Arraignennent  of  Paris 1583  1584 

Lyly,    Endimion 1586  1591 

Marlowe,    Samharlaine 1587-1588  1590 

Hughes,  Misfortunes  of  Arthur 1587  1587 

Marlowe,    Faustus 1588  1604 

Kyd,  Spanish  Tragedie 1588  1594 

Troublesome  Raigne  of  King  John 1588  1591 

Greene,  Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungay 1589  1594 

Peele,  David  and  Bethsabe ca.  1589  1599 

Marlowe,  Rich  Jew  of  Malta 1589  1594; 

Marlowe,    Edicard   II 1590  1594 

Peele,  Edward  1 1590  1593 

Arden    of   Fever  sham 1591  ?  1593 

Peele,   Old   Wives'   Tale 1593?  1595 

Lyly,  Woman  in  the  Moone 1593  1597 

The  Raigne  of  Edward  III 1596 

Jonson,  Every  Man  in  his  Humour 1598  1601 

Dekker,    The    Shoemaker's   Holiday 1599  1600 

Chapman,  All  Fools 1600?  1605 

The   Return  from  Parnassus 1601-1602  1606 

Marston,    The    Malcontent 1602?  1604 

Jonson,     Sejanus 1603  1605 

Heywood,  A  Woman  killed  with  Kindness 1603  1607 

Dekker,  The  Honest  Whore.     Part  1 1603?  1604 

Day,  lie  of  Ouls 1605  1606 

Jonson,   Volpone 1605  1607 

Marston,  Chapman,  and  Jonson,  Eastward  Hoe..  1605  1605 

Chapman,   Bussy   d'Ambois 1G06?  1607 

Tourneur,  The  Revengei'^s  Tragedy 1607 

190 


SHAKESPEARE  Contemporary  Plays 

Acted        Printed 

Chapman,  Conspiracy  and  Tragedy  of  Byron 1608 

Webster,    The    Wkite    Devil 1607-1608  1G13 

Dekker,  The  Honest  Whore.     Part  II 1608  1630 

Fletcher,  The  Faithful  Shepherdess 1608-1609  1610 

Jonson,    The   Silent    V/oman 1609  1609? 

Beaumont  and   Fletcher,  Philaster 1609  1620 

Jonson,    The    Alchemist 1610  1612 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,   The  Maid's  Tragedy....  1609-1610  1619 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  A  King  and  No  King.  . . .  1611?  1619 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  The  Knight  of  the  Burnr- 

ing   Pestle 1611  1613 

Field,  A    Woman  is  a  Weathercock 1611  1612 

Fletcher     (and    Shakespeare?),    The    Two    Noble 

Kin.imen    1613  1634i 

Chapman,  The  Revenge  of  Bussy  d'Ambois 1613 

Jonson,   B  ar  the  lorn  eiv    Fair ICH  1631 

Wel).ster,  Duchess  of  Mnlfi 1616  1623 

Fletcher,     Valentinian 1616?  1647 

Fletcher  and  Massinger,  Thierry  and  Theodoret...  1617?  1621 

Fletcher,    Bonduca 1618?  1617 

Fletcher,  The  Humorous  Lieutenant 1619  1640 

Fletcher  and  Massinger,  Little  French  Laxcyer...  1620  I6i7 

Dekker  and  Massinger,   The   Virgin  Martyr 1632 

Middleton,    The    Changeling 1623-1624  1653 

Massinger,  The  Duke  of  Milan 1623 

Fletcher,    The    Pilgrim 1621  1647 

Fletcher  (and  another).  The  Beggars'  Bush 1623  1647 

Middleton  and  Rowley,  The  Spanish  Gipsie 1623?  1653 

Fletcher,  Rule  a  Wife  and  have  a  Wife 1624  1640 

Jonson,  The  Staple  of  Netos 1625  1631 

Massin<;er,  A   New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts 1625  1633 

Ford.  'Tis  Pity  She  's  a  Whore 1628-1630  1633 

Shirley,   The   Gamester 1634  1637 

Jonson,  The  Sad  Shepherd 1641 

Middleton,  Women  beware  Women 1657 


191 


INDEX  OF  CHARACTERS 


A. 

Aaron",  a  Moor,  beloved  by 
Tamora,  Titus  Andronicus: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  so.  i, 
iii;  Act  III,  sc.  1;  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii;   Act   V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Abergaven,ny,  Lord,  King  Henry 
VIII:    Act  I,  sc.  i 

Abhorson,  an  executioner.  Meas- 
ure for  Measure:  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii,  iii 

Abraham,  servant  to  Montague, 
Romeo  and  Juliet:    Act  I,  sc.  i 

Achilles,  a  Grecian  commander, 
Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  v,  vi, 
vii,  viii 

Adam,  servant  to  Oliver,  As  You 
Like  It:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II, 
sc.  iii,  vi,  vii 

Adoxis,  Passionate  Pilgrim; 
Venus  and  Adonis 

Adrian,  a  lord,  The  Tempest: 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  iii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Adriana,  wife  to  Antipholus  of 
Ephesus;  The  Comedy  of  Er- 
rors: Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

.^GEON,  a  merchant  of  Syracuse, 
The  Comedy  of  Errors :  Act  I, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

JEmilia,  wife  to  ^geon,  an  Ab- 
bess of  Ephesus,  The  Comedy 
of  Errors:    Act  V,  sc.  i 

^Emilius,  a  noble  Roman,  Titus 
Andronicus:  Act  IV,  sc.  iv; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

^NEAS,    a    Trojan    commander. 


Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  I, 
sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii, 
iii,  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  x 

Agamemnon,  the  Grecian  gen- 
eral, Troilus  and  Cressida: 
Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  v; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  V,  ix 

Agrippa,  friend  to  Caesar,  Antony 
and  Cleopatra:  Act  II,  sc.  ii, 
iv,  vii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  vi;  Act 
IV,  sc.  i,  vi,  vii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Agrippa,  Men^nius,  friend  to 
Coriolanus,  Coriolanus:  Act 
I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i,  ii,  vi;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv 

Aguecheek,  Sir  Andrew,  Twelfth 
Night:  Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II, 
sc.  iii,  v;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Ajax,  a  Grecian  commander, 
Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  V,  vi, 
ix 

Alarbus,  son  to  Tamara,  Titus 
Andronicus :     Act  I,  sc.  i 

Albany,  Duke  of.  King  Lear: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Alcibiades,  an  Athenian  captain, 
Timon  of  Athens:  Act  I,  sc. 
i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III, 
sc.  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V, 
sc.  iv 

Alencon,  Duke  of.  King  Henry 
VI:  Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  ii,  vi; 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii, 
iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  viij  Act  V, 
sc.  ii,  iv 


192 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


Alexander,  servant  to  Cressida, 
Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  I, 
sc.  ii 

Alexas,  attendant  on  Cleopatra, 
Antony  and  Cleopatra:  Act  I, 
sc.  ii,  iii,  v;  Act  II,  sc.  v;  Act 
III,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  vii 

Alice,  a  lady  attending  on 
Katharine,  King  Henry  V: 
Act  III,  sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Alonso,  King  of  Naples,  The 
Tempest:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II, 
sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act  V, 
sc.  i 

Amiens,  lord  attending  on  the 
banished  Duke,  As  You  Like 
It:  Act  II,  sc.  i,  V,  vii;  Act 
V,  sc.  iv 

Andhomache,'  wife  to  Hector, 
Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  V, 
sc.  iii 

Andronicus,  Marcus,  tribune  of 
the  people,  brother  to  Titus, 
Titus  Andronicus:  Act  I,  sc. 
i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Aot  III, 
sc.  i,  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 
V,  sc.  ii,  iii 

Andronicus,  Titus,  a  noble  Ro- 
man,   Titus    Andronicus:     Act 

I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act 
III,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii 

Angelo,  a  goldsmith.  The  Com- 
edy of  Errors:  Act  III,  sc.  i, 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Angelo,  Deputy,  Pleasure  for 
Measure:    Act    I,    sc.    i;    Act 

II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv;  Act  iV,  sc.  iv; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Angus,  nobleman  of  Scotland, 
Macbeth:  Act  I,  sc.  iii,  iv.  vi; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv 

Anne,  Lady,  widow  of  Edward, 
Prince  of  Wales,  son  to  King 
Henry  VI;  afterwards  married 
to  Richard,  King  Richard  III: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i 

193 


Antenor,  a  Trojan  commander, 
Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  I, 
SC.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act 
V,  sc.  X 

Antigonus,  a  Lord  of  Sicilia, 
The  Winter's  Tale:  Act  II,  sc 
i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  iii 

An.tiochus,  King  of  Antioch, 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre:  Act 
I,  sc.  i 

Antipiiolus  of  Ephesus,  twin 
brother  to  Antipholus  of 
Syracuse,  son  of  yEgeon  and 
-(Emilia,  The  Comedy  of  Er- 
rors: Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Antipholus  of  Syhacuse,  twin 
brother  to  Antipholus  of 
Ephesus,  son  of  zEgeon  and 
.(Emilia,  The  Comedy  of  Er- 
rors: Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc. 
ii;  yVct  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc. 
iii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Antonio,  brother  to  Leonato, 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  iv 

Antonio,  a  merchant  of  Venice, 
The  Merchant  of  Venice: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  vi; 
Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Antonio,  usurping  Duke  of 
Milan,  brother  to  Prospero, 
The  Tempest:  Act  I,  sc.  i; 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  iii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Antonio,  Father  to  Proteus,  The 
Two  Gentleman  of  Verona: 
Act  I,  sc.  iii 

Antonio,  a  sea  captain,  friend 
to  Sebastian,  Twelfth  Night: 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  iii, 
iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Antonius,  Marcus  (Marc  An- 
tony),   triumvir,    Antony    and 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


Cleopatra:  Act  I,  se.  i,  iii; 
Act  II,  so.  ii,  iii,  vi,  vii;  Act 

III,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vii,  ix,  xi,  xiii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv,  v,  viii,  x,  xii, 
xiv,  XV;  Julius  Casar:  Act  I, 
sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III, 
sc.  i,  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V, 
sc.  i,  iv,  V 

Apemantus,  a  churlish  philoso- 
pher, Timon  of  Athens:  Act 
I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act 

IV,  sc.  iii 

Arc,     Joan    of:    see    Joan    la 

PUCELLE 

Archibald,  Earl  of  Douglas, 
King  Henry  IV:  Part  1,  Act 
IV,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii, 
iv 

Archidamus,  a  Lord  of  Bohe- 
mia, The  Winter's  Tale:  Act 
I,  sc.  i 

Ariel,  an  airy  spirit,  The  Tem- 
pests Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 
sc.  i;   Act   III,  sc.  ii,   iii;   Act 

IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Akmado,     Don     Adriano    de,     a 

fantastical  Spaniard,  Love's 
Labor's  Lost:  Act  I,  sc.  ii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Aruagox,  Prince  of,  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice:  Act  II,  sc. 
ix 

Artemidorus  of  Cnidos,  teacher 
of  Rhetoric,  Julius  Cwsar: 
Act  II,  sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i 

Arthur,  Duke  of  Bretagne, 
nephew  to  the  King,  King 
John:  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III, 
sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii 

Arviragus,  son  to  Cymbeline, 
disguised  under  the  name  of 
Cadwal,  supposed  son  to  Mor- 
gan, Cymbeline:  Act  III,  sc. 
iii,  vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act 

V,  sc.  V 

194. 


Aitdrey,  a  country  wench,  As 
You  Like  It:  Act  III,  sc.  iii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv 

AuFiDius,  TuLLus,  general  of  the 
Volscians,  Coriolanus:  Act  I, 
sc.  ii,  viii,  x;  Act  IV,  sc.  v, 
vii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii,  vi 

Aumerle,  Duke  of,  son  to  the 
Duke  of  York,  King  Richard 
II:  Act  I,  sc.  iii,  iv;  Act  II, 
sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii 

AuTOLYcus,  a  rogue,  The  Win- 
ter's Tale:  Act  IV,  sc.  iii,  iv; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii 

AuvERGNE,  CcfuNTEss  OF,  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  1,  Act  II, 
sc.  iii 


Bagot,  servant  to  King  Richard 

II,  King  Richard  II :  Act  I, 
sc.  iii,  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  i 

Balthasar,  servant  to  Portia, 
The  Merchant  of  Venice:     Act 

III,  sc.  iv 

Balthasar,  attendant  on  Don 
Pedro,  Much  Ado  About  Noth- 
ing: Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc. 
i,  iii 

Balthasar,  servant  to  Romeo, 
Romeo  and  Juliet:  Act  I,  sc. 
i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Balthazar,  a  Merchant,  The 
Comedy  of  Errors:  Act  III, 
sc.  i 

Banquo,  general  of  the  king's 
army,  Macbeth:  Act  I,  sc.  iii, 
iv,  vi;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 
III,  sc.  i,  iii 

Baptista,    a    rich    gentleman    of 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


Padua,     The    Taming    of    the 
Shrew:    Act   I,  sc.  i;   Act  II, 
sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Bakdolpii,      King      Henry      IV: 
Part  1,  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act 
III,    sc.    iii;    Act    IV,    sc.    ii; 
Part   2,   Act   I,   sc.   i,   iii;    Act 
II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii, 
v;    King    Henry    V:     Act    II, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor:    Act  I,  sc. 
i,  iii;   Act   II,  sc.  ii;   Act  III, 
sc.  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii,  v 
Baunardixe,  a  dissolute  prisoner. 
Measure      for     Measure:     Act 
IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Bassaxio,  friend  to  Antonio  and 
suitor  to  Portia,  The  Merchant 
of    Venice:     Act    I,   sc.    i,    iii; 
Act   II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Basset,  of  the  Red-Rose  or  Lan- 
caster    faction,     King     Henry 
VI:    Part   1,   Act   III,  sc.  iv; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i 
Bassianus,  brother  to  Saturninus, 
Titus  Andronicvs:     Act    I,  sc. 
i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii 
Bates,   soldier   in   King   Henry's 
army.    King    Henry     V:    Act 
IV,  sc.  i 
Beatrice,  niece  to  Leonato,  Much 
Ado    About    Nothing:     Act    I, 
sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  yVct  III, 
sc.  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc. 
ii,  iv 
Beaufort,   Henry,  great-uncle  to 
the  King,  Bishop   of  Winches- 
ter, afterwards  Cardinal,  King 
Henry  VI:    Part  1,  Act  I,  sc. 
i,  iii;   Act   III,  sc.  i,  iv;   Act 


IV,    sc.    i;    Act    V,    sc.    i,    iv; 
Part   2,   Act   I,   sc.   i,   iii;    Act 

II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii 
Beaufort,    John,    see    Earl    of 

Somerset,  King  Henry    VI 
Beaufort,     Thomas,     Duke     of 
Exeter,     great-uncle     to     the 
king.  King  Henry    V:     Act   I, 
sc.  ii;  Act   II,  sc.   11,  iv;   Act 

III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii,  vi, 
vii,  viii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii;  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  1,  Act  I,  sc. 
i;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  v;  Part 
3,  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  v; 
Act   IV,  sc.  viii 

Bedford,  Duke  of,  brother  to 
King  Henry  V,  King  Henry 
V:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc. 
ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc. 
i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii;  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  1,  Act  I,  sc. 
i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii 

Belarius,  a  banished  lord,  dis- 
guised under  the  name  of 
Morgan,  Cymbeline:  Act  III, 
sc.  iii,  vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv; 
Act  V,  sc.  V 

Belch,  Sir  Toby,  uncle  to  Olivia, 
Tu-elfth  Night:  Act  I,  sc.  iii, 
v;  Act  II,  sc.  iii,  v;  Act  III, 
sc.  i,  ii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Bexedick,  a  young  lord  of  Pa- 
dua, Much  Ado  About  Noth- 
ing: Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc. 
i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  ^',  sc.  i,  ii,  iv 

Benvolto,  nephew  to  Montague, 
and  friend  to  Romeo,  Romeo 
and  Juliet :  Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii, 
iv;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  III, 
sc.  i 


195 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


Bernardo,  an  officer,  Hamlet, 
Prince  of  DenmarJc:  Act  I, 
sc.  i,  ii 

Bertram,  count  of  Rousillon, 
AlVs  Well  Thai  Ends  .  Well: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii, 
v;  Act  III,  sc.  iii,  v,  vi;  Act 
IV,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  iii 

Bevis,  George,  follower  of  Jack 
Cade,  King  Henry  VI:  Part 
2,  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  vii 

BiAxcA,  mistress  to  Cassio,  Othel- 
lo: Act  III,  sc.  iv;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

BiANCA,  daughter  to  Baptista, 
The  Taming  of  the  Shrew: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act 

III,  sc.  i,  ii;   Act   IV,   sc.  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

BiGCT,    Loud,    King    John:    Act 

IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vii 
BioxDELLO,   servant   to   Lucentio, 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i; 
Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii, 
iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
BraoN,  lord  attending  on  the 
King,  Love's  Labor's  Lost: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act 

III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii^  Act 

V,  sc.  ii 

Blanch,  of  Spain,  niece  to  King 
John,  King  John:  Act  II,  sc. 
1;  Act  III,  sc.  i 

Blount,  Sir  James,  King  Rich- 
ard III:    Act  V,  sc.  ii 

JBlukt,  Sir  Walter,  King  Henry 
IV:  Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii; 
Act  V,  sc.   i,   iii;   Part  2,  Act 

IV,  sc.  iii 

Bolingbroke,  Henry,  Dulie  of 
Hereford,  son  to  John  of 
Gaunt,  afterwards  King  Henry 
IV,  King  Richard  II:  Act  I, 
SC.  ii,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  iii;  Act 


III,   sc.   i,  iii;   Act   IV,  sc.   i; 

Act  V,  sc.  iii,  vi 
Bolingbroke,    a    conjurer,    Kvnff 

Henry  VI:    Part  2,  Act  I,  sc. 

iv;  Act  II,  sc.  iii 
Bona,     sister     to     the     French 

Queen,  King  Henry  VI:     Part 

3,  Act  III,  sc.  iii 
BoRACHio,  follower  of  Don  John, 

Much     Ado     About     Nothing: 

Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii; 

Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii; 

Act  V,  sc.  i 
Bottom,  a  weaver,  A  Midsummer- 
Night's  Dream:     Act  I,  sc.  ii; 

Act   III,  sc.  i;   Act   IV,   sc.  i, 

ii 
BouLT,  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre: 

Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  vi 
Bourbon,  Duke  of.  King  Henry 

V:    Act  III,  sc.  v;  Act  IV,  sc. 

V 

Bourchier,  Cardinal:  see  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  King 
Richard  III 

Boy,  Troilus',  Troilus  and  Cres- 
sida:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii 

BoYET,  lord  attending  on  the 
Princess  of  France,  Love's 
Labo/s  Lost:  Act  II,  sc.  i; 
Act   IV,  sc.   i;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Brabantio,  a  senator,  Othello: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii 

BrakeNiBury,  Sir  Robert,  Lieu- 
tenant of  the  Tower,  King 
Richard  III:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iv; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i 

Brandon,  Sir  William,  King 
Richard  III:     Act  V,  sc.  iii 

Brandon,  King  Henry  VIII: 
Act  I,  sc.  i 

Brutus,  Decius,  conspirator, 
Julius  Ccesar:  Act  I,  sc.  ii; 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i 


196 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


Brutus,    Junius,    Rape    of    Lu- 
cre ce 
Bbutus,   Junius,   tribune  of   the 

people,  C'uriolanus:     Act  I,  sc. 

i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  III, 

sc.    i,   iii;    Act    IV,    sc.   ii,    vi; 

Act  V,  sc.  1 
BnuTus,      Marcus,      conspirator, 

J  alius    Ccesar:    Act    I,   sc.    ii; 

Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i, 

ii;   Act   IV,  sc.  ii,  iii;   Act  V, 

sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv,  v 
Buckingham,     Duke     of,     King 

Richard    III:     Act    I,    sc.    iii; 

Act  II,  sc.  1,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i, 

ii,   iv,    V,   vii;    Act    IV,   sc.    ii; 

Act  V,  sc.  i 
Buckingham,    Duke    of,    Kinff 

Henri/     VIII:    Act    I,    sc.    i; 

Act  II,  sc.  i 
Buckingham,     Duke     of.     King 

Ileury  VI:     Part  3,  Act  I,  sc. 

ii,    iii,   iv;    Act    II,   sc.    i;    Act 

III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  iv,  viii, 

ix;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
BuLLEN,  Anne,   Maid  of  Honor 

to  Queen  Katharine,  afterwards 

Queen,     King     Henri/      VIII: 

Act   I,  sc.   iv;   Act   II,  sc.   iii; 

Act  IV,  sc.  i 
Burgundy,  Duke  of.  King  Henry 

V:     Part   1,  Act   II,  sc.  i,  ii; 

Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc. 

vii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 
Burgundy,  Duke  of.  King  Lear: 

Act  I,  sc.  1 
Bushy,  servant  to  King  Richard 

II,  King  Richard  II:     Act    I, 
sc.  iii,  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act 

III,  sc.  i 

Butts,  Doctor,  physician  to  the 
King,  King  Henry  VIII:  Act 
V,  sc.  ii 


197 


Cade,  Jack,  a  rebel,  Kinq  Henri/ 
VI:  Part  3,  Act  IV,  sc.  ii, 
iii,  vi,  vii,  viii,  x 

C^SAR,  Julius,  Julins  Cwsar: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act 

III,  sc.  1 

C.icsAR,  OcTAVius,  triumvir,  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra:  Act  I, 
sc.  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii,  vi,  vii; 
Act  III,  sc.  ii,  vi,  viii,  xii;  Act 

IV,  sc.  i,  vi,  xi;  Act  V,  sc.  1, 
ii 

C.T.sAR,  OcTAvius,  triumvir,  Julius 
Casar:  Act  l\,  sc.  i;  Act  V, 
sc.  i,  V 

Caithness,  nobleman  of  Scot- 
land, Macbeth:  Act  V,  sc.  ii, 
iv 

Caius,  Doctor,  a  French  physi- 
cian. Merry  Wives  of  Windsor: 
Act  I,  sc.  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  iii,  v 

Calchas,  a  Trojan  priest,  taking 
part  with  the  Greeks,  Troiius 
and  Cressida:     Act   III,  sc.  iii 

Caliban,  a  savage  and  deformed 
slave.  The  Tempest:  Act  I,  sc. 
ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc. 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Calpurnia,  wife  to  CfPsar,  Julius 
Ccesar:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II. 
sc.  ii 

Casibridge,  Earl  of.  King  Henry 
T';     Act  II,  sc.  ii 

Camillo,  a  I^ord  of  Sicilia,  The 
Winter's  Tale:  Act  I,  sc.  i. 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  V, 
sc.  iii 

Campeius,  Cardinal,  King  Henry 
VIII:  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act 
III,  sc.  i 

Canidius,     lieutenant-general     to 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


Antony,  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 
Act  III,  sc.  vii,  X 

Cantekbuky,  Archbishop  or, 
King  Richard  III:  Act  III, 
sc.  i 

Canterbury,  Archbishop  of. 
King  Henry  V:  Act  I,  sc.  i, 
ii 

Caphis,  servant,  Timon  of  Ath- 
ens:   Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii 

Capucius,  Ambassador  from  Em- 
peror Charles  V,  King  Henry 
VIII:    Act  IV,  sc.  ii 

Capulet,  head  of  his  house  at 
variance  with  the  house  of 
Montague,  Borneo  and  Juliet: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii,  v;  Act  III,  sc. 
i,  iv,  V5  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv,  v; 
Act  V,  sc.  iii 

Capulet,  Lady,  wife  to  Capulet, 
Borneo  and  Juliet:  Act  I,  sc. 
i,  iii;. Act  III,  sc.  iv,  v;  Act 
IV,  sc.  ii,  iii,  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc. 
iii 

Carlisle,  Bishop  of,  King  Rich- 
ard II:  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  vi 

Casca,  conspirator,  Julius  Ccesar: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i, 
ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i 

Cassandra,  daughter  to  Priara; 
a  prophetess,  Troihts  and  Cres- 
sida:  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  V, 
sc.  iii 

Cassio,  lieutenant  to  Othello, 
Othello:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i;   Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Cassius,  conspirator,  Jidius  Cce- 
sar: Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  II, 
sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Catesby,  Sir  William,  King 
Richard  III:  Act  I,  sc.  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  V,  vii;  Act  IV, 
SC.  ii,  iii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  iii,  iv 


Cato,  the  Younger,  friend  to  Bru- 
tus and  Cassius,  Jidius  Ccesar: 
Act  V,  sc.  iii,  iv 

Celia,  daughter  to  Frederick,  As 
You  Like  It:  Act  I,  sc.  ii, 
iii;  Act  II,  sc.  iv;  Act  III,  sc. 
ii,  iv,  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 
V,  sc.  iv 

Ceuimon/,  a  lord  of  Ephesus, 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre:     Act 

III,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  iii 
Chabiberlain,  Lord,  King  Henry 

VIII:  Act  I,  sc.  iii,  iv;  Act 
II,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  iii,  iv 

Charles,  wrestler  to  Frederick, 
As  You  Like  It:  Act  I,  sc.  i, 
ii 

Charles  VI,  king  of  France, 
King  Henry  V:  Act  II,  sc. 
iv;  Act  III,  sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc. 
ii 

Charles,  Dauphin,  afterwards 
King  of  France,  King  Henry 
VI:  Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  ii,  v, 
vi;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc. 
ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  vii;  Act  V, 
sc.  ii,  iv 

Charmian,  attendant  on  Cleopa- 
tra, Antony  and  Cleopatra: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iii,  v;  Act  II,  sc. 
v;  Act  III,  sc.  iii,  xi,  xiii;  Act 

IV,  sc.  ii,  iv,  xiii,  xv;  Act  V, 
sc.  ii 

Chatillon,  ambassador  from 
France  to  King  John,  King 
John:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II, 
sc.  i 

Chiron,  son  to  Tamora,  Titus 
Andronictts :  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act 
II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Cicero,  senator,  Julius  Ccesar: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iii 

CiMBER,    Metellus,    conspirdtor. 


198 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


Juliuti  Casar;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii; 
Act   III,  sc.  i 
CiNNA,    conspirator,   Julius    Cce- 
sar:    Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc. 
i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i 
CiKNA,    a    poet,    Julius    Ccesar: 

Act  III,  sc.  iii 
Clauence,  Duke  oi',  son  to  King 
Henry    IV,   King   Henry    IV: 
Part  3,  Act  IV,  sc.  iv,  v;  Act 
V,  sc.  ii 
Clarence,   Duke   of,  brother  to 
King  Eilward  IV,  King  Rich- 
ard HI:     Act  I,  sc.  i,  iv 
Clarence,   Duke  of,  see   George 

Plantagenet 
Claudio,     a     young     gentleman. 
Measure  for  Measure:     Act   I, 
so.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Claudio,  a  young  lord  of  Flor- 
ence, Much  Ado  About  Noth- 
ing:    Act   I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc. 
i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv 
Claudius,     servant     to     Brutus, 
Julius  Ccesar:     Act   IV,  sc.  iii 
Claudius,     King     of     Denmark, 
Hamlet,    Prince    of    Denmark: 
Act    I,   sc.   ii;    Act    II,   sc.   ii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i,  iii,  V,  vii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Cleomenes,    a    Lord    of    Sicilia, 
The    Winter's    Tale:     Act   III, 
sc.  i,  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  1 
Cleox,  governor  of  Tarsus,  Per- 
icles, Prince  of   Tyre:     Act   I, 
sc.    iv;    Act    III,    sc.    iii;    Act 
IV,  sc.  iii 
Cleopatra,  Queen  of  Egypt,  An- 
tony   and    Cleopatra:     Act    I, 
sc.   i,   ii,   iii,   v;    Act    II,   sc.   v; 
Act    III,    sc.    iii,    vii,    xi,    xiii; 
Clerk  of  Chatham,  King  Henry 
V.I:    Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  ii 

199 


Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv,  viii,  xii,  xiii, 
XV;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 
Clifford,  Lord,  King  Henry  VI: 
Part    2,    Act    IV,   sc.    viii,    ix; 
Act   V,   sc.   i,   ii;   Part   3,   Act 
I,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv, 
vi 
Clifioui),    Young,    son    of    Lord 
Clifford,      King      Henry      VI: 
Part  -2,  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Clitus,  servant  to  Brutus,  Julius 

Caesar:    Act  V,  sc.  v 
Cloten,  son   to   the  Queen   by  a 
former     husband,     Cymbeline: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  i, 
ii 
Cobweb,  a  fairy,  A   Midsummer- 
Night's   Dream:    Act    III,   sc. 
i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i 
Collatinus,    Rape    of    Lucrece: 
CoLviLLE,  Sir  John,  King  Henry 

IV:    Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  iii 
CojMiNius,     general     against     the 
Volscians,   Coriolanus:     Act   I, 
sc.  i,  vi,   ix;   Act   II,  sc.   i,   ii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i,  vi;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
CoNRADE,  follower  of  Don  John, 
Much     Ado     About     Nothing: 
Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  iii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Constance,    mother    to    Artlmr, 
King    John:     Act     II,    sc.     i; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  iv 
Cordelia,  daughter  to  Lear,  King 
Lear:    Act   I,  sc.   i;   Act    IV, 
sc.  iv,  vii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii 
CoRiN,  a  shepherd.  As  You  Like 
It:    Act    II,   sc.   iv;    Act    III, 
sc.  ii,  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Coriolanus,    see    Caius    Marcius 
Cornelius,   a  physician,   Cymbe- 
line:   Act  I,  sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc. 

V 

Cornelius,    a    courtier,    Hamlet, 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


Prince  of  Denmark:     Act  I,  sc. 
ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii 

Cornwall,  Dukb  of,  King  Lear: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii, 
iv;  Act  III,  sc.  V,  vii 

Costard,  a  clown.  Love's  Labor's 
Lost:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  III, 
sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act 
V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Court,  soldier  in  King  Henry's 
army.  King  Henry  V:  Act 
IV,  sc.  i,  viii 

Craxmer,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, King  Henri/  VIII:  Act 
II,  *sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii,  v 

Chessida,  daughter  to  Calchas, 
Trvihis  and  Cresslda:  Act  I, 
sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii,  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Cromwell,  servant  to  Wolsey, 
King  Henry  VIII:  Act  III, 
sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii 

CuRAX,  a  courtier,  King  Lear: 
Act  II,  sc.  i 

CcRio,  gentleman  attending  on 
Orsino,    Twelfth    Night:    Act 

I,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  iv;  Act 
V,  sc.  i 

CouTis,  servant  to  Petruchio,  The 
Taming  of  the  Shreiv:  Act 
IV,  sc.  i 

Cymbeline,  king  of  Britain, 
CymbeJine:    Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act 

II,  sc.   iii;    Act   III,   sc.   i,   v; 
Act  IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  v 

Cytheuea,  Passionate  Pilgrim 


D 


Dahdanius,  servant  to  Brutus, 
Julius  Ccesar:    Act  V,  sc.  v 

Daughter  of  Axtiochus,  Per- 
icles, Prince  of  Tyre:  Act  I, 
sc.  i 

Davy,  servant  to  Shallow,  King 


Henry  IV:     Part  2,  Act  V,  sc. 

i,  iii 
De  Burgh,  Hubert,  King  John: 

Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc. 

i,  ii,  iii ;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  vi 
Deiphobus,  son  of  Priam,  Troilus 

and   Cressida:     Act   IV,  sc.   i, 

iii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  x 
Demetrius,  suitor  to  Hermia,  A 

Midstimmer-Night's        Dream: 

Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii; 

Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i; 

Act  V,  sc.  i 
Demetrius,  son  to  Tamora,  Titus 

Andronicus:     Act  I,  sc.  i:  Act 

II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc. 

ii,  iv 
Dejieteius,  friend  to  Antony,  An- 
tony   and    Cleopatra:     Act    I, 

sc.  i 
Dennis,    servant    to    Oliver,    As 

You  Like  it:     Act  I,  sc.  i 
Denny,     Sir     Anthony,     King 

Henry  VIII:    Act  V,  sc.  i 
Derby,  Eaul  of:  see  Lord  Stanf 

LEY 

Dercetas,  friend  to  Antony,  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra:  Act  IV, 
sc.  xiv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Desdemona,  daughter  to  Bra- 
bantio  and  wife  to  Othello, 
Othello:  Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act 
II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  iii, 
iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act 
V,  sc.  ii 

Diana,  daughter  to  widow,  All's 
well  that  ends  well:  Act  III, 
sc.  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act 
V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Diana,  goddess,  Pericles:  Act 
V,  sc.  i 

Dick,  the  butcher,  follower  of 
Jack  Cade,  rebel.  King  Henry 
VI:  Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  iic 
iii,  vi,  vii 


£00 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


DioMEUEs,  Grecian  commander, 
Troikis  and  Cressida:  Act 
II,  sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ili;  Act 
IV,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc. 
i,  ii,  iv,  V,  vi,  ix 

DioJiKDEs,  attendant  on  Cleopa- 
tra, Antony  and  Cleopatra: 
Act  IV,  sc.  xiv,  XV 

Dion,  a  Lord  of  Sicilia,  The 
Winter's  Tale:  Act  III,  sc.  i, 
ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

DioxvzA,  wife  to  Cleon,  Pericles, 
Prince  of  Tyre:  Act  I,  sc.  iv; 
Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i, 
iii 

DoGBEBRY,  a  constable,  Much  Ado 
About  Nothing:  Act  III,  sc. 
iii,  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii;  Act  V, 
sc.  i 

DoLABEi.r.A,  friend  to  Caesar,  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra:  Act  III, 
sc.  xii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

DoxALBAiN,  son  to  Duncan,  Mac- 
beth: Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vi;  Act 
II,  sc.  iii 

Don  Johx,  bastard  brother  of 
Don  Pedro,  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii; 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i 

Don  Pedho,  prince  of  Arragon, 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv 

Dorcas,  shepherdess.  The  Win* 
ter's  Tale:    Act  IV,  sc.  iv 

Dorset,  Marquis  of,  son  to 
Queen  Elizabeth,  King  Richard 
III:  Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc. 
i,  ii 

Dromio  of  Ephesus,  tv.in  brother 
and  attendant  on  the  two 
Antipholuscs,  The  Comedy  of 
Errors:    Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 


sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc. 
i,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

DaoMio  OF  Syracuse,  twin  brother 
of  Dromio  of  Ephesus,  attend- 
ant on  the  two  Antipholuscs, 
Comedy  of  Errors:  Act  I,  sc. 
ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc. 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Duke  (Senior),  living  in  banish- 
ment. As  You  Like  It:  Act 
II,  sc.  i,  vii;  Act  V,  sc.  iv 

Dull,  a  constable.  Love's  Labor's 
Lost:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

DuMAiN,  lord  attending  on  the 
King,  Love's  Labor's  Lost: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act 
IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Duncan,  king  of  Scotland,  MaC' 
beth:    Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vi 


E 


Edgar,  son  to  Gloucester,  King 
Lear:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 
sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  iv,  vi;  Act 
IV,  sc.  i,  vi;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii, 
iii 

Edmund,  bastard  son  of  Glou- 
cester, King  Lear:  Act  I,  sc. 
i;  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i, ii; 
Act  III,  sc.  iii,  v,  vii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Edmund  of  Langley,  Duke  of 
York,  uncle  to  King  Richard 
II,  King  Richard  II:  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  iii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  ii, 
iii,  vi 

EoMUNi),  Earl  of  Rutland,  son 
of  Plantagenet,  Duke  of  York, 
King  Henry  VI:  Part  3,  Act 
I,  sc.  iii 


20A 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAISI 


E.W.H.  P-ce  of  Wa.es.  son  of      E.n..     wiie    to  j^^^^^. 


Act   II,  sc.  i;   Act   III,  sc.  i, 
iii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act 
V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Emilia,     a    lady     attending    on 
Hermione,  The  Winter's  Tale: 
Act  II,  sc.  ii 
Enobarbus,   Domitius,   friend   to 
Antony,    Antony    and    Cleopa- 
tra:   Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc. 
ii,   vi,   vii;    Act    III,   sc.    ii,   v, 
vii,  ix,  X,  xiii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii, 
vi,  ix 


Henrv    VI,    King    Henry    VI 
Part  3,   Act   I,  sc.   i,  iv;   Act 
II,  sc.  ii,  v;   Act   III,  sc.   iii; 
Act  V,  sc.  iv 

Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  after- 
wards King  Edward  V,  son  to 
King  Edward  IV,  King  Rich- 
ard III:     Act  III,  sc.  i 

Edward  IV  (Edward  Planta- 
GEXET,  Earl  of  March);  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  3,  Act  V,  sc. 
i;  Part  3,  Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act 

II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  vi;  Act  III,  sc-       ^^^^^  ^^.^^^  ^^  Antony,  Antony 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  vii,  vni;  Act  ^^^^  chopatra:    Act  III,  sc.  v, 

V,    sc.    i,    ii,    i"»    IV,    V,    vn,  '  .  ... 

King    Richard    III:    Act    II, 

SC.  i 

Egeus,  father  to  Hermia,  A  Mid- 
summer-Night's Dream:  Act 
I,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i 

Eglamour,  Agent  for  Silvia  m 
her  escape,  The  Two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona:  Act  IV,  sc.  m; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Elbow,  a  simple  constable,  Meas- 
ure for  Measure:    Act  II,  sc. 
i;  Act  III,  SC.  ii 
Eleanor,  Duchess  of  Gloucester,       ^^^^^^^^  ^^^^  ^f  Tyre,  Pericles, 
King  Henry  VI:     Part^^,  acl  ^  ^^^  j^  ^^   jjj, 

I,  sc.  ii,  Ui;  Act  II,  sc.  ui,  iv  ^      •! 


xi;  Act  IV,  sc.  iv,  v,  vii,  xiv 
Erpingham,  Sir  Thomas,  officer 
in    King    Henry's    army.    King 
Henry  V:    Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii 
EscALTjs,  an  ancient  Lord,  Meas- 
ure  for  Measure:    Act    I,    sc. 
i;   Act  II,  sc.  i;   Act   III,  sc. 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Esc  ALUS,      prince      of      Verona, 
Romeo  and  Juliet:     Act  I,  sc. 
i;   Act  III,  sc.  i;   Act   V,  sc. 
iii 


Elinor,  Queen,  mother  to  King 
John,  King  John:  Act  I,  sc. 
i;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i, 

iii 
Elizabeth    (Lady   Grey),  queen 

to    King    Edward     IV,    King 

Henry    VI:    Act    HI,    sc.    u;  ^iii 

Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iv;   Act   V,  sc  ^^^^^^  g^^  ^^^^^^  ^  ^^elsh  par- 

vii;    King    Richard    in:     Aci  ^^^^  ^^^^^_^.^  ^^.^^^  ^^  Windsor: 

I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  n,  iv;  ,^^^  ^^  ^^    .^  jj.  ^^t  III,  sc.  i. 

Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iv  J.    ijj.   ^ct  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv,  v; 
Ely,  Bishop  of.  King  Henry  V: 


Act  II,  sc.  iv 
Essex,     Earl     of.    King     John: 

Act  I,  sc.  i 
Euphronius,     ambassador     from 

Antony  to  Coesar,  Antony  and 

Cleopatra:    Act    III,    sc.    xii. 


Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii 
Ely,    Bishop    of,    King    Richard 
III:     Act  III,  sc.  iv 

202 


Act  V,  sc.  iv,  V 
Exeter,  Duke  of,  see  Beaufort, 
Thomas 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


F 


Fabiax,  servant  to  Olivia,  Twelfth 
Xiglit:  Act  II,  sc.  v;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act 
V,  sc.  i 

Fai.staff,  Sir  JoHjf,  Merry 
Wlces  of  Windsor:  Act  I,  sc. 
i,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III, 
sc.  iii,  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  v;  Act 
V,  sc.  \i  v;  King  Henry  IV: 
Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 
sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv; 
Part  2,  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc. -i,  iii,  v 

Fastolfe,  Sir  John,  King  Henry 
VI:  Part  1,  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i 

Faulconbridge  Lady,  King  John: 
Act  I,  sc.  i 

Faulconbridge,  Philip,  see 
Philip 

Faulconbridge,  Robert,  son  of 
Sir  Robert  t  aulconbridge. 
King  John:     Act  I,  sc.  i 

Fenton,  a  gentleman.  Merry 
Wives  of  Wind.^or:  Act  I,  sc. 
iv;  Act  III,  sc.  iv;  Act  IV, 
sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc.  v 

Ferdinand,  son  to  the  King  of 
Naples,  The  Tempest:  Act  I, 
sc.  i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Ferdinand,  king  of  Navarre, 
Love's  Labor's  Lost:  Act  I, 
sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 
sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Feste,  a  clown,  servant  to  Olivia, 
Twelfth  Night:  Act  I,  sc.  v; 
Act  II,  sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Fitzwateh,   Lord,   King   Richard 

203 


//.•  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc. 
vi 

Flaminius,  servant  to  Tiinon, 
Timon  of  Athens:  Act  II,  sc. 
ii;   Act  III,  sc.  i,  iv 

Flavius,  tribune,  Julius  Casar: 
Act  I,  sc.  i 

Flavius,  steward  to  Timon,  Ti- 
mon of  Athens:  Act  I,  sc.  ii; 
Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  iv; 
Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Fleance,  son  to  Banquo,  Mac- 
beth: Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III, 
sc.  iii 

Florizel,  Prince  of  Bohemia, 
The  Winter's  Tale:  Act-  IV, 
sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Fluellen,  officer  in  King  Henry's 
army.    King    Henry     V:     Act 

III,  sc.  ii,  vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  vii, 
viii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Flute,  a  bellows-mender,  A  Mid- 
summer-Night's    Dream:     Act 

I,  sc.   ii;    Act   III,   sc.   i;    Act 

IV,  sc.  ii 

Fohd,  a  gentleman  dwelling  at 
Windsor,  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor:    Act    II,   sc.   i;   Act 

II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii, 
v;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii;  Act  V,  SC. 
i.  V 

FoKD,  Mistress,  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act 
II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  iii,  v 

Fortinbras,  prince  of  Norway, 
Hamlet,  prince  of  Denmark: 
Act  IV,  sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

France,  King  of.  All's  Well 
That  Ends  V/ell:  Act  I,  sc. 
ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc. 
iii 

Francisca,  a  nun.  Measure  for 
Measure:     Act  I,  sc.  iv 

Francisco,     a    soldier,    Ilamlet, 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


Prince  of  Denmark:  Act  I, 
sc.  i 

Fraxcisco,  a  Lord,  The  Tem'pest: 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  iii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Frederick,  brother  to  the  ban- 
ished Duke,  and  usurper  of  his 
dominions,  As  You  Like  It: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i 

Friar  Francis,  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing :  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act 
V,  sc.  iv 

Froth,  a  foolish  gentleman. 
Measure  for  Measure:    Act  II, 


sc.  1 


G 


Gadshill,      King      Henry      IV: 

Part   1,  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  II, 

sc.  ii,  iv 
Gallus,  friend  to  Csesar,  Antony 

and  Cleopatra:     Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 

King    Henry     VIII:     Act    II, 

sc.  ii;   Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V, 

sc.  i,  iii 
Gargrave,     Sir     Thomas,     King 

Henry  VI:     Part  I,  Act  I,  sc. 

iv 
General  of  the  French  forces  in 

Bourdeaux,    King    Henry    VI: 

Part  1,  Act  IV,  sc.  ii 
George,      afterwards      Duke      of 

Clarence,  son  of  Duke  of  York, 

King  Henry  VI:     Part  3,  Act 

II,   sc.   ii,   iii,  vi;   Act  III,   sc. 

ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  vi,  viii; 

Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv,  v,  vii 
Gertrude,     queen     of     Denmark, 

Mother     to     Hamlet,     Hamlet, 

Prince  of  Denmark:     Act  I,  sc. 

ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i, 

ii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  v,  vii;  Act 

V,  sc.  i,  ii 


Glansdale,    Sir    V»'illiam,    Kincf 
Henry  VI:     Part  1,  vVct  I,  sc, 
iv 
Glendower,  Owen,  King  Henry 

IV:    Part  1,  Act  III,  sc.  i 
Gloucester,    Duchess    of.    King 

Richard  II:     Act  I,  sc.  ii 
Gloucester,  Duke  of,  brother  to 
King    Henry    V,   King   Henry 
V:    Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc. 
i,  vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii,  vii,  viii; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii 
Gloucester,  Earl  of.  King  Lear: 
Act  I,  sc.   i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i, 
ii,  iv;   Act   III,   sc.   iii,   iv,   vi, 
vii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  vi;  Act  V, 
sc.  ii 
Gloucester,     Humphrey,     Duke 
©F,   uncle   of   Henry   VI,  King 
Henry  VI:     Part  1,  Act  I,  sc. 
i,  iii;   Act   III,   sc.  i,  iv;   Act 
IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  v;  Part 
2,  Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iii,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii 
Gloucester,   Richard,   Duke  of: 

see  Richard 
GoBBO,    Launcelot,     the    clown, 
servant   to   Shylock,    The   Mer- 
chant  of    Venice:     Act   II,   sc. 
ii,  iii,  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
GoBBo,  Old,  father  to  Launcelot, 
The  Merchant  of  Venice:    Act 
II,  sc.  ii 
Goffe,    Matthew,    King    Henry 

VI:     Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  vii 
Goneril,  daughter  to  Lear,  King 
Lear:     Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv;  Act 
II,  sc.  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  vii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 
GoNZALO,    an    honest    old    Coun- 
selor, The  Tempest :    Act  I,  sc. 
i;   Act   II,   sc.   i;    Act   III,   sc. 
iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Governor  of  Paris,  King  Henry 
VI:    Part  1,  Act  IV,  sc.  i 


204 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


GowER,   King   Henry   IV:    Part 

2,  Act  II,  sc.  i 
GowEH,   officer   in    King   Henry's 

army.    King    Henrij     T';     Act 

III,  sc.  ii,  vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  vii, 

viii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Cower,  Pericles:     Act  I,  Act  II, 

Act  III,  Act  IV,  Act  V 
GuANDPRE,    French    Lord,    King 

Henry,  V:    Act  IV,  sc.  ii 
Gratiano,  friend  to  Antonio  and 

Bassanio,     The     Merchant     of 

Venice:    Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II, 

sc.   ii,  iv,  vi;   Act    III,   sc.  ii; 

Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Gratiano,  brother  to  Brabantio, 

Othello:    Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Gheex,  servant  to  King  Richard 

II,  King  Richard  II:  Act  I, 
sc.  iii,  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i 

Gregory,  servant  to  Capulet, 
Romeo  and  Juliet:    Act  I,  sc.  i 

Gremio,  suitor  to  Bianca,  The 
Taming  of  the  Shreio:  Act  I, 
sc.  i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Grey,  Lady:  see  Elizabeth 

Grey,  Lord,  son  to  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, King  Richard  III:  Act 
I,   sc.   iii;   Act   II,   sc.   i;    Act 

III,  sc.  iii 
Grey,  Sir  Thomas,  King  Henry 

V:    Act  II,  sc.  ii 

Griffith,  gentleman — Usher  to 
Queen  Katharine,  King  Henry 
VIII:    Act  IV,  sc.  ii 

Grumio,  servant  to  Petruchio, 
The  Taming  of  the  Shrew: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i, 
ii 

Guiderius,  son  to  Cymbeline,  dis- 
guised under  the  name  of  Poly- 
dore,  supposed  son  to  Morgan, 
Cymbeline:    Act  III,  sc.  iii,  vi; 

205 


Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  v 
GuiLDENSTERN,  a  courticr,  Ham- 
let, Prince  of  Denmark:  Act 
II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv 
Guildford,     Sir     Hekry,     King 

Henry  VIII:     Act  I,  sc.  iv 
GuRNEY,  James,  servant  to  Lady 
Faulconbridge,      King      John: 
Act  I,  sc.  i 


H 


Hasilet,  son  to  late  King  and 
nephew  to  the  present  King, 
Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmark: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iv,  v;  Act  II,  sc. 
ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv;  Act 
IV,  sc.  ii,  iii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i, 
ii 

Harcotjrt,  King  Henry  IV: 
Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  iv 

Hastings,  Lord,  King  Henry  IV: 
Part  2,  Act  I,  sc.  iii^  Act  IV, 
sc.  r,  ii 

Hastings,  Lord,  King  Richard 
III:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv 

Hastings,  Lord,  King  Henry  VI: 
Part  3,  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  v,  vii; 
Act  V,  sc.  vii 

Hecate,  Macbeth:  Act  III,  sc. 
v;  Act  IV,  sc.  i 

Hector,    son    of    Priam,    Troihis 

,  and  Crestida:  Act  I,  sc.  ii; 
Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  v; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv,  vi,  viii 

Helen,  wife  to  Menelaus,  Troilus 
and  Cressida:    Act  III,  sc.  i 

Helen,  a  lady  attending  on  Imo- 
gen, Cymbeline:     Act  II,  sc.  ii 

Helena,  a  gentlewoman  pro- 
tected by  the  Countess,  All's 
Well  that  Ends  Well:  Act  I, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  II,  sc,  i,  iii,  iv,  v; 


Index  of  Characters 


Act  III,  sc.  ii,  V,  vii;  Act  IV, 

sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 
Helena,  in  love  with  Demetrius, 

A  Midsummer-Bight's  Dream: 

Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii; 

Act  HI,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i; 

Act  V,  sc.  1 
Helenus,  son  of  Priam,  Troilus 

and    Cressida:     Act    I,    sc.    ii; 

Act  II,  sc.  ii 
Helicaxus,  lord  of  Tyre,  Pericles, 

Prince  of  Tyre:     Act  I,  sc.  ii, 

iii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 
Hexby    IV,    king    of    England, 

King  Henry  IV:     Part  1,  Act 

I,    sc.    i,    iii;    Act    III,    sc.    ii; 

Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv,  v;  Part  2, 

Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  iv, 

V 

Henry  V,  King  of  England, 
King  Henry  IV:  Part  1,  Act 
I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act 

III,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv,  v;  Part  2, 
Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc. 
v;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  v;  King  Henry 
V:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc. 
ii;   Act   III,  sc.  i,  iii,  vi;   Act 

IV,  sc.  i,  iii,  vi,  vii,  viii;  Act 

V,  sc.  ii 
Henry    VI,    King    of    England, 

King  Henry  VI:  Part  1,  Act 
III,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  v;  Part  2,  Act  I, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 
III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc. 
iv,  ix;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii;  Part  3, 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  v; 
Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  vi, 
viii;  Act  V,  sc.  vi 

Henry  VIII,  King,  King  Henry 
VIII:  Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act 
II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  v 

Henby,    Prince,    son    to    King 

206 


WILLIAM 

John,  King  John:     Act  V,  sc. 

vii 
Henry,   Prince  of   Wales,   after- 
wards  King   Henry   V,  son  to 
King    Henry    IV:    see   Henry 

V 
Henry,    Earl    of    Richmond,    a 
youth.  King  Henry  VI,  Part  3, 
Act  IV,  sc.  vi 
Herbert,      Sir      Walter,     King 

Richard  III:     Act  V,  sc.  u 
Hermia,   daughter   to    Egeus,   in 
Jove  witK  Lysander,  A  Midsum- 
mer-Night's Dream:    Act  I,  sc. 
i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc. 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Herjiione,  queen  to  Leontes,  The 
Winter's   Tale:    Act  I,   sc.  ii; 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  iii 
Hero,      daughter      to      Leonato, 
Much     Ado     About     Nothing: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act 
III,   sc.   i,  iv;   Act   IV,  sc.   i; 
Act  V,  sc.  iv 
HiPPOLYTA,    queen    of    the    Ama- 
zons, betrothed  to  Theseus,  A 
Midsummer-Night's        Dream : 
Act    I,   sc.   i;    Act    IV,   sc.   i; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 
Holland,      John,      follower     of 
Jack  Cade,  rebel.  King  Hennj 
VI:    Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  vi, 
vii 
Holofernes,       a       schoolmaster. 
Love's  Labor's  Lost:    Act  IV, 
sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Horatio,  friend  to  Hamlet,  £fam- 
let,  Prince  of  Denmark:    Act 
I,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv,  v;  Act  III,  sc. 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  V,  vi;  Act  V, 
sc.  i,  ii 
Horner,    Thomas,    an    armorer, 
King  Henry  VI:     Part  3,  Act 
I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  iii 
HoRTENSio,     suitor     to     Biancas 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


The     Taming    of     the    Shrew: 

Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i; 

Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  IV,  sc. 

ii,  iii,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 
HoKTENSius,    servant,    Timon    of 

Athens:    Act  III,  sc.  iv 
Hotspur,    Hexjiy    Percy,   son   of 

Earl    of    Northumberland,    see 

Percy,  Henry 
HujiE,  John,  priest.  King  Henry 

VI:     Part   -2,  Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iv; 

Act  II,  sc.  iii 
Humphrey"        of        Gloucester, 

Prince,    son    to    King    Henry 

IV,  King  Henry  IV:     Part  2, 

Act  IV,  sc.  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 


LvcHiMo,  an  Italian,  friend  to 
Philario,  Cymbeline:  Act  I, 
sc.  iv,  vi;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii,  V 

Iago,  ancient  to  Othello,  Othello: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act  II,  sc. 
i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  V,  sc,  i, 
ii 

Idem,  Alexander,  a  Kentish  gen- 
tleman. King  Henry  VI:  Part 
2,  Act  IV,  sc.  x;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Imogen,  daughter  to  Cymbeline, 
Cymbeline:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii, 
vi;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii,  iv,  vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii,  v 

Iras,  attendant  on  Cleopatra, 
Antony  and  Cleopatra:  Act 
I,  sc.  ii,  iii,  v;  Act  II,  sc.  v; 
Act  III,  sc.  iii,  xi,  xiii;  Act  IV, 
Sc.  ii,  xiii,  xv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Isabel,  queen  of  France,  King 
Henry  V:     Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Isabella,  sister  to  Claudio,  Meas- 
ure for  Measure:  Act  I,  sc. 
iv;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  III, 


sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii,  vi;  Act 
V,  sc.  i 


Jamv,    officer    in    King    Henry's 
army,    King    Henry     V:    Act 
III,  sc.  ii 
Jaquenetta,    a    country    wencli. 
Love's    Labor's    Lost:     Act    I, 
sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iii 
Jaques,    lord    attending    on    the 
banished   Duke,  As    You  Like 
It:    Act  II,  sc.  V,  vii;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V, 
sc.  iv 
Jaques,  son   of  Sir   Rowland   de 
Boys,  As    You  Like  It:    Act 
V,  sc.  iv 
Jessica,     daughter     to     Shylock, 
The  Merchant  of  Venice:    Act 
II,  sc.  iii,  V,  vi;  Act  III,  sc.  ii, 
iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Joan,     la     Pucelle,     commonly 
called     Joan     of     Arc,     King 
Henry  VI:    Part  1,  Act  I,  sc. 
ii,  V,  vi;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  vii;  Act 
V,  sc.  ii,  iii,  iv 
John,      Friar,      a      Franciscan, 
Romeo    and    Juliet:    Act     V, 
sc.  ii 
John,  Kino,  Life  and  Death  of 
King  John:     Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act 
II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii; 
Act   IV,  sc.  ii;  Act   V,  sc.  i, 
ii,  vii 
John  of  Gaunt,  Duke  of  Lan- 
caster,    Uncle     to     the     King, 
King  Richard   II:    Act    I,   sc. 
i,  ii,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i 
John  of  Lancaster,  son  to  King 
Henry    IV,    A'ln^r    Henry    IV: 
Parti,   Act    I,   sc.   i;   Act    V, 
sc.   i,   iv,   v;    Part   2,   Act    IV, 
sc.  ii,  iii,  v;  Act  V,  sc  ii,  v 


207 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


JouuDAix,  Mahgaret,  a  witch. 
King  Henry  VI:  Part  II,  Act 
I,  sc.  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  iii 

Julia,  beloved  of  Protevis,  The 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  vii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc. 
ii,  iv 

Jttliet,  beloved  of  Claudio, 
Measure  for  Measure:  Act  I, 
sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  iii;  Act  V, 
sc.  i 

Juliet,  daughter  to  Capulet, 
Romeo  and  Juliet:  Act  I,  sc. 
iii,  v;  Act  II,  sc.  v,  vi;  Act 
III,  sc.  ii,  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  i, 
ii,  iii,  V 


K 


Katharina,  the  shrew,  daughter 
to  Baptista,  The  Taming  of 
the  Shreio:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act 
II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  i,  iii,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Katharine,  lady  attending  on 
the  Princess,  Love's  Labor's 
Lost:  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Katharine,  daughter  to  Charles 
and  Isabel,  King  Henry  V: 
Act  III,  sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Katharine,  Queen,  King  Henry 
VIII:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 
sc.  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii 

Kent,  Earl  of.  King  Lear: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  iv,  v;  Act  II,  sc. 
ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv,  vi; 
Act  IV,  sc.  iii,  vii;  Act  V,  sc. 
iii 

King  of  France,  King  Lear: 
Act  I,  sc.  i 


Laertes,  son  to  Polonius,  Ham- 
let, Prince   of  Denmark:     Act 

I,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  v,  vii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Lafeu,  an  old  lord.  All's  well 
that  ends  well.  Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii; 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii,  v;  Act  IV, 
sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii 

Lartius,  Titus,  general  against 
the  Volscians,  Coriolanus: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  iv,  V,  vii,  ix;  Act 

II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i 
Launce,    a    clownish    servant    to 

Proteus,  The  Two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona:  Act  II,  sc.  iii,  v; 
Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  iv 
Laurence,  Friar,  a  Franciscan, 
Romeo  and  Juliet:  Act  II, 
sc.  iii,  vi;  Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act 

IV,  sc.  i,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii 
Lavache,    a    clown,    servant    to 

Countess  of  Rousillon,  All's 
well  that  ends  well:  Act  I, 
sc.   iii;   Act   II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act 

III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  v;  Act 

V,  sc.  ii 

Lavinia,  daughter  to  Titus  An- 
dronicus,  Titus  Andronicus: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii, 
iv;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii 

Lear,  King  of  Britain,  King 
Lear:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iv,  v;  Act 
II,  sc.  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iv, 
vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  vi,  vii;  Act  V, 
sc.  ii,  iii 

Le  Beau,  a  courtier  attending 
upon  Frederick,  As  You  Like 
It:    Act  I,  sc.  ii 

Lena,  Popilius,  senator,  Jidius 
Caesar:    Act  III,  sc.  i 

Lennox,  nobleman  of  Scotland, 
Macbeth:    Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vi; 


208 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


Act  II,  sc.  iii;  Act  III,  so.  i, 
iv,  vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V, 
sc.  ii,  iv 

Leonaudo,  servant  to  Bassanio, 
The  Merchant  of  Venice:  Act 
II,  sc.  ii 

Leonato,  governor  of  Messina, 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i, 
iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  v;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iv 

Leonatus,  Posthumus,  a  gentle- 
man, husband  to  Imogen,  Cym- 
beline:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act 
II,  sc.  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii, 
iv,  V 

Leonine,  servant  to  Dionyza, 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre:    Act 

IV,  sc.  i 

Leontes,  King  of  Sicilia,  The 
Winter's  Tale:  Act  I,  sc.  ii; 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc. 
ii ;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Lepidus,  M.  iEjiiL,  triumvir, 
Julius  Ccesar:  Act  III,  sc,  i; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Antony  and 
Cleopatra:    Act  I,  sc.  iv;  Act 

II,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vi,  vii;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii 

Lewis  XI,  King  of  France,  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  3,  Act  III, 
sc.  iii 

Lewis,  the  Dauphin  of  France, 
King  John:     Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act 

III,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,     v 
Lewis,  the  Dauphin,  King  Henry 

V:    Act   II,   sc.   iv;    Act    III, 

sc.  V,  vii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  v 
LiGARius,       conspirator,       Julius 

Ccesar:     Act  II,  sc.  1,  ii 
Lixcoi.x,  Bishop  of,  King  Henry 

VIII:    Act  II,  sc.  iv 
LoDovico,  kinsman  to  Brabantio, 

Othello:    Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 

V,  sc.  i,  ii 

LoNOAViLT.E,    lord    attending    on 

o 


the  King,  Love's  Labor's  Lost: 
Act    I,    sc.    i;    Act    II,    sc.    i; 
Act  IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 
LoBExzo,    in    love    with    Jessica, 
The  Merchant  of  Venice:     Act 

I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  iv,  vi;  Act 

III,  sc.  ii,  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Lovei,,  Lord,  King  Richard  III: 

Act  III,  sc.  iv,  v 
Lovell,  Sir  Thomas,  King  Henry 

VIII:     Act    I,    sc.    ii,    iii,    iv; 

Act   II,  sc.   i;    Act   III,  sc.   ii; 

Act  V,  sc.  i 
LucENTio,    son    to    Vincentio,    in 

love  with  Bianca,  The  Taming 

of  the  Shrew:     Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii; 

Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii; 

Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc. 

i,  ii 
LucETTA,        waiting-woman        to 

Julia,   The   Two   Gentlemen   of 

Verona:    Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 

sc.  vii 
LuciANA,  sister  to  yVdriana,  Com- 
edy of  Errors:     Act  II,  sc.  i, 

ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc. 

ii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
LuciLius,   friend   to   Brutus   and 

Cassius,     Julius     Ccesar:     Act 

IV,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iv, 

V 

LtTciLius,  servant  to  Timon, 
Timon  of  Athens:     Act  I,  sc.  i 

Lucio,  a  fantastic,  Measure  for 
Measure:    Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act 

II,  sc.  ii;   Act   III,  sc.  ii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Lucrjs,  Caius,  General  of  the 
Roman  forces,  Cymbeline: 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  v;  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  v 

Lucius,  son  to  Titus  Andronicus, 
Titus  Andronicus:  Act  I,  sc. 
i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  III, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Lucius,  a  flattering  lord,  Timon 


209 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


cf    Athens:    Act    III,    sc.    ii 

Lucius,  servant  to  Brutus,  Julius 

Ccpsar:    Act  II,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act 

IV,  sc.  ii,  iii 

LucuLLUS,   a   flattering  lord,   Ti- 

raon  of  Athens:     Act  III,  sc.  i 
Lucy,  Sir  William,  Kin(j  Henri/ 

VI:    Part   1,   Act   IV,  sc.  iii, 

vii 
LrcRECE,  Rape  of  Lucrece 
Lucretius,    Rape    of    Lucrece 
Lychouida,     nurse     to     Marina, 

Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre:    Act 

III,  sc,  i,  iii 
Lymoges,  Duke  of  Austria,  King 

John:     Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III, 

sc.  i 
Lysander,  suitor  to   Hermia,  A 

Midsummer-Night's        Dream : 

Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act 

III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act 

V,  sc.  i 

Lysimachus,  governor  of  Myti- 
lene,  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre: 
Act  IV,  sc.  vi;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 


M 


Macbeth,  general  of  the  king's 
army,  Macbeth:  Act  I,  sc.  iii, 
iv,  V,  vii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  v,  vii,  viii 

Macbeth,   Lady,   Macbeth:     Act 

I,  sc.  V,  vii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv;  Act  V, 
sc.  i 

Macduff,  nobleman  of  Scotland, 
Macbeth:     Act   I,   sc.   vi;    Act 

II,  sc.  iii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii; 
Act  V,  sc.  iv,  vi,  vii,  viii 

Macduff,  Lady,  Macbeth:  Act 
IV,  sc.  ii 

Macmorris,  officer  in  King  Hen- 
ry's army.  King  Henry  V: 
Act  III,  sc.  ii 

2 


M.^icenas,  friend  to  Caesar,  An- 
tony and  Cleopa,tra:  Act  II, 
sc.  ii,  iv,  vi,  vii;  Act  HI,  sc. 
vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc. 
i,  ii 

Malcolm,  son  to  Duncan,  Mac- 
beth:   Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vi;  Act 

II,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii;  Act 
V,  sc.  iv,  vi,  vii,  viii 

Malvolio,  steward  to  Olivia, 
Twelfth  Night:  Act  I,  sc.  v; 
Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii,  v;  Act  III, 
sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

MAr-iiLLius,  young  prince  of  Si- 
cilia,  The  Winter's  Tale:     Act 

1,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i 
Marcellus,    an    officer,    Hamlet, 

Prince  of  Denmark:  Act  I,  sc. 
i,  iv,  v 

March,  Edward,  Earl  of:  see 
Edward  IV 

Mardian,  a  eunuch,  attendant  on 
Cleopatra,  Antony  and  Cleopa- 
tra: Act  I,  sc.  v;  Act  II,  sc. 
v;  Act  IV,  sc.  xiii,  xiv 

Maugarelon,  a  bastard  son  of 
Priam,  Troilus  and  Cressida: 
Act  V,  sc.  %ai 

Margaret,  gentlev/oman  attend- 
ant on  Hero,  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing:    Act    II,   sc.    i;    Act 

III,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv 
Margaret,  daughter  of  Reignier, 

afterwards  married  to  King 
Henry  VI,  King  Henry  VI: 
Part    1,    Act    V,    sc.    iii;    Part 

2,  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  II,  sc. 
i,  iii;   Act   III,   sc.   i,  ii;    Act 

IV,  sc.  iv,  ix;  Act  V,  sc.  i, 
ii;  Part  3,  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iv; 
Act  II,  sc.  ii,  v;  Act  III,  sc. 
iii;  Act  V,  sc.  iv,  v 

Margaret,  widow  of  King  Henry 
VI,  King  Richard  III:  Act 
I,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  iv 

Mariana,  neighbor  and  friend  to 


10 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


Widow,  All's  Well  That  Ends 
Well:     Act  III,  sc.  v 

Mariana,  betrothed  to  Angelo, 
Measure  for  Measure:  Act 
IV,  sc.  i,  vi;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Marina,  daughter  to  Pericles 
and  Thaisa,  Pericles,  Prince  of 
Tyre:    Act    III,    sc.    iii;    Act 

IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  vi;  Act  V,  sc.  i, 
iii 

Marcius,  Caius,  surnamed  Corio- 

lanus,    Coriolanus:     Act    I,   sc. 

i,  iv,  V,  vi,  viii,  ix;  Act  II,  sc. 

i,  ii,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii; 

Act   IV,  sc.  i,  iv,  v;   Act   V, 

sc.  ii,  iii,  vi 
Marcius    the    Younger,    son    of 

Coriolanus,       Coriolanus :    Act 

V,  sc.  iii 

Maria,  lady  attending  on  the 
Princess,  Love's  Labor's  Lost: 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Maria,  Olivia's  woman.  Twelfth 
Night:    Act  I,  sc.  iii,  v;  Act 

II,  sc.  iii,  v;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii, 
iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii 

Martext,  Sir  Oliver,  a  vicar, 
As  You  Like  It:  Act  III,  sc. 
iii 

Martius,  son  to  Titus  Androni- 
cus,  Titus  Andronicus:  Act 
I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act 

III,  sc.  i 

Marullus,  tribune,  Julius  Ctesar: 
Act  I,  sc.  i 

Melun,  a  French  Lord,  King 
John:     Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv 

Menas,  friend  to  Sextus  Pom- 
peius,  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  vi,  vii 

Menecrates,  friend  to  Sextus 
Pompeius,  Antony  and  Cleopa- 
tra:    Act  II,  sc.  i 

Mexei.aus,  brother  to  Agamem- 
non,    Troilus     and     Cressida: 

211 


Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  iii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ix 

Menteith,  nobleman  of  Scot- 
land, Macbeth:  Act  V,  sc.  ii, 
iv 

Mercade,  lord  attending  on  the 
Princess  of  France,  Love's 
Labor's  Lost:    Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Mercutio,  kinsman  to  Escalus, 
and  friend  to  Romeo,  Borneo 
and  Juliet:  Act  I,  sc.  iv; 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  i 

Messala,  friend  to  Brutus  and 
Cassius,  Julius  Ccesar:  Act 
IN',  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii, 

V 

Michael,  Sir,  a  friend  to  the 
archbishop  of  York,  King 
Henry  IV:  Part  1,  Act  IV, 
sc.  iv 

Michael,  follower  of  Jack  Cade, 
rebel.  King  Henry  VI:  Part 
3,  Act  IV,  sc.  ii 

Milan,  Duke  of,  father  to  Sil- 
via, I'he  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona:     Act   II,   sc.   iv;    Act 

III,  sc.   i,   ii;    Act   IV,   sc.    ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  iv 

Miranda,  daughter  to  Prospero, 
The  Tempest:  Act  I,  sc.  ii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Montague,  head  of  his  house  at 
variance  with  the  house  of 
Capulet,  Romeo  and  Juliet: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  iii 

Montague,  Lady,  wife  to  Mon- 
tague, Bom,eo  and  Juliet:  Act 
I,  sc.  i 

Montague,  Marquess  of.  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  3,  Act  I,  sc. 
i,   ii;   Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii,  vi;   Act 

IV,  sc.  i,  vi,  viii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
MoxTANo,    Othello's    predecessor 

in  the  government  of  Cyprus, 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


Othello:    Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 

Y,  sc.  ii 
Montgomery,    Sir    Johx,    King 

Henry    VI:    Part  3,   Act   IV, 

sc.  vii 
MoNTJOY,      a     French      Herald, 

King  Henry   V:    Act   III,  sc. 

vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii,  vii 
MoPSA,  Shepherdess,  The  Winter's 

Tale:    Act  IV,  sc.  iv 
Morocco,   Prince    of,    The   Mer- 
chant of  Venice:    Act  II,  sc. 

i,  vii 
I'rloRTiMER,     Edmukd,     Earl     of 

March,  King  Henry  IV:    Part 

1,  Act  III,  sc.  i 
Mortimer,     Edmund,     Earl     of 

March,  King  Henry  VI:    Part 

1,  Act  II,  sc.  V 
Mortimer,    Sir    Hugh,   uncle   of 

Duke    of    York,    King    Henry 

VI:    Part  3,  Act  I,  sc.  ii 
Mortimer,    Sir    John,    uncle    of 

Duke    of    York,    King    Henry 

VI:    Part  3,  Act  I,  sc.  ii 
MoRTiiMER,     Lady,     daughter     to 

Glendower,   and  wife  to  Mor- 
timer, King  Henry  IV:     Part 

1,  Act  III,  sc.  i 
Morton,    retainer    of    Northum- 
berland,    King      Henry     IV: 

Part  2,  Act  I,  sc.  i 
Morton,    John:    see    Bishop    of 

Ely 
Moth,  page  to  Armado,  Love's 

Labors    Lost:     Act    I,    sc.    ii; 

Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Moth,    a    fairy,   A    Midsummer- 

:Night's    Dream:     Act    III,   sc. 

i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i 
Mowbray,  Lord,  King  Henry  IV: 

Part  3,  Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV, 

sc.  i,  ii 
Mowbray,     Thomas,      Duke     of 

Norwalk,     King     Richard    II: 

Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii 

21 


MusTARDSEED,  a  fairy,  A  Midsxim- 

mer-Night's  Dream:    Act  III, 

sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i 
Mtttius,   son   to   Titus    Androni- 

cus,    Tittis    Andronicus:    Act 

I,  sc.  i 


N 


Nathaniel,  Sir,  a  curate.  Love's 
Labor's  Lost:  Act  IV,  sc.  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Nerissa,  Portia's  waiting-maid, 
llie  Merchant  of  Venice:    Act 

I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ix;  Act 
III,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Nestor,  Grecian  commander, 
Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  I, 
sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  V,  ix 

Norfolk,  Dkke  of.  King  Henry 
VI:     Part  3,  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act 

II,  sc.  ii 

Norfolk,  Duke  of.  King  Richard 

III:     Act  V,  sc.  iii,  iv 
Norfolk,  Duke  of.  King  Henry 

VIII:    Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  II, 

sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV, 

sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  iii,  v 
Norfolk,  Duchess,  King  Henry 

VIII:    Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V, 

sc.  V 
Northumberland,     Lady,     King 

Henry    IV:    Part   2,    Act    II, 

sc.  iii 
Northumberland,  Earl  of.  King 

Henry  VI:    Part  3,  Act  I,  sc 

i,  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  ii 
Northumberland,  Earl  of,  King 

Richard  II:     Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii; 

Act  III,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc. 

i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  vi 
Nym,  sharper  attending  on   Fal* 

staff.   Merry    Wives   of    Wind- 
sor:   Act  I,  .sc.  i,  iii;  Act  II, 
2 


SHAKESPEARE 


Judex  of  Characters 


sc.  i;  King  Henry  V:     Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii 


O 


Oberox,  King  of  the  fairies,  A 
Midsummer-jS'ighl'a  Dream : 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

OcTAViA,  sister  to  Caesar,  and 
wife  to  Antony,  Antony  and 
Cleopatra:  Act  II,  sc.  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vi 

Oliver,  son  of  Sir  Rowland  de 
Boys,  As  You  Like  It:  Act 
I,  sc.  1;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 
sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv 

Olivia,  Twelfth  IS'iyht:  Act  I, 
sc.  v;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act 
IV,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Ophelia,  daughter  to  Polonius, 
Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmark: 
Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i'; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  v 

Orlando,  son  of  Sir  Rowland  de 
Boys,   As    You  Like   It:    Act 

I,  sc.  1,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  iii,  vi, 
vii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc. 
i;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv 

Ori-eaxs,  Bastard  of.  King  Henry 
VI:    Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act 

II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  vii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii, 
iv 

Orleans,  DricE  of.  King  Henry 

V:    Act  III,  sc.  vii;  Act  IV, 

sc.  ii,  V 
OnsiNO,  Duke  of  lUyria,  Twelfth 

Night:    Act    I,   sc.   i,   iv;   Act 

II,  sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Osric,  a  courtier,  Hamlet,  Prince 

of  Denmark:     Act  V,  sc.  ii 
Oswald,  steward  to  Goneril,  King 

Lear:     Act   I,  sc.   iii,  iv;   Act 

II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  vii; 

Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  v,  vi 
Shk-1-10  2 


Othello,  a  nohle  Moor  in  the 
service  of  tiie  Venetian  Citato, 
Othello:  Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act 
II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii, 
iii,   iv;   Act    IV,   sc.   i,   ii,   iii; 

^  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Overdone,  Mistress,  a  bawd, 
Measure  for  Measure:  Act  I, 
sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii 

Oxford,  Earl  of.  King  Henry 
VI:  Part  3,  Act  III,  sc.  iii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iii,  vi,  vii;  Act 
V,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv,  v 

Oxford,  Earl  of.  King  Richard 
III:    Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii 


Page,  a  gentleman  dv/elling  at 
Windsor,  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor:     Act    I,    sc.    i;    Act 

II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i, 
ii,  iii,  iv;  Act  IV,  SO.  ii,  iv; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii,  V 

Page,  Anne,  daughter  to  Mis- 
tress Page,  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor:    Act    I,    sc.    i;    Act 

III,  sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  v 

Page,  Mistress,  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act 
II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii, 
iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  V, 
sc.  iii,  V 

Page,  William,  a  boy,  son  to 
Page,  Merry  Wives  of  Wind- 
sor:    Act  IV,  sc.  i 

Pandarus,  uncle  to  Cressida, 
Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  I, 
sc.  i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act 

IV,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  V,  SC.  iii,  x 

Pandulph,  Cardinal,  the  Pope's 
legate.  King  John:  Act  III, 
sc.  i,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Panthino,   Servant   to   Antonio, 


13 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


I'he  Two  Oentlemen  of  Vero- 
na: Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc. 
ii,  iii 

Paris,  a  young  nobleman,  kins- 
man to  Escalus,  Romeo  and 
Juliet:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  III, 
sc.  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  v;  Act  V, 
sc.  iii 

Paris,  son  of  Priam,  Troilus  and 
Cressida:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 
sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 
sc.  iii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  x 

Parolles,  a  follower  of  Bertram, 
All's  Well  That  Ends  Well: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii, 
iv,  v;  Act  III,  sc.  iii,  v,  vi; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc. 
ii,  iii 

Patience,  waiting-woman  to 
Queen  Katharine,  King  Henry 
VIII:    Act  IV,  sc.  ii 

Patroclus,  Grecian  commander, 
Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Paulina,  wife  to  Antigonus,  The 
Winter's  Tale:  Act  II,  sc.  ii, 
iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc. 
i,  iii 

Peaseblossom,  a  fairy,  A  Midsum- 
mer-Night's Dream:  Act  III, 
sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i 

Pembroke,  Earl  of.  King  John: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii, 
iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vii 

Pembroke,  Earl  of,  Henry  VI: 
Part  3,  sc.  i 

Percy,  Henry,  surnamed  Hot- 
spur, son  of  the  Earl  of  Nor- 
thumberland, King  Henry  IV: 
Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II, 
sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii,  iv; 
King  Richard  II:  Act  II,  sc. 
iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  iii,  vi 

2 


Percy,  Henry,  Earl  of  Northum- 
berland, King  Henry  IV: 
Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Part  2, 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  iii 

Percy,  Lady,  wife  to  Hotspur, 
and  sister  to  Mortimer,  King 
Henry  IV:  Part  1,  Act  II,  sc. 
iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Fart  2,  Act 

II,  sc.  iii 

Percy,  Thomas,  Earl  of  Worces- 
ter, King  Henry  IV:  Part  1, 
Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  1; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  v 

Perdita,  daughter  to  Leontes  and 
Hermione,  The  Winter's  Tale: 
Act  IV,  sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i, 
iii 

Pericles,  prince  of  Tyre,  Pericles, 
Prince  of  Tyre:  Act  I,  sc.  1, 
ii,  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii,  v;  Act 

III,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 
Peter,  friar.  Measure  for  Meas- 
ure:    Act    IV,   sc.   V,    vi;    Act 
V,  sc.  i 

Peter,  servant  of  Thomas  Har- 
ner,  the  armorer.  King  Henry 
VI:  Part  2,  Act  I,  sc.  iii; 
Act  II,  sc.  iii 

Peter,  servant  to  Juliet's  nurse, 
Romeo  and  Juliet:  Act  II,  sc. 
iv,  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  v 

Peter  of  Pomfret,  a  prophet, 
King  John:    Act  IV,  sc.  ii 

Peto,  King  Henry  IV:  Part  1, 
Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  III,  sc. 
iii;  Pajt  2,  Act  II,  sc.  iv 

Petruchio,  a  gentleman  of  Ve- 
rona, a  suitor  to  Katharina, 
The  Taming  of  the  Shrew: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i; 
Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i^ 
iii,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 

Phebe,  a  shepherdess.  As  You 
Like  It:  Act  III,  sc.  v;  Act 
y,  sc.  ii,  iv 


14 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


PuiLAiiio,  an  Italian,  friend  to 
Posthunius,  Ci/mbeline:  Act  I, 
sc.  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  iv 

PiiiLEMox,  servant  to  Cerimon, 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre:    Act 

III,  sc.  ii 

Philip,  the  Bastard,  half-brother 
to  Robert  Faulconbridge,  Kinc/ 
John:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II, 
sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act 

IV,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii, 
vj,  vii 

Philip,  King  of  France,  King 
John:  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III, 
sc.  i,  iv 

Philo,  friend  to  Antony,  Antony 
and  Cleopatra:     Act  I,  sc.  i 

Piiilostrate,  master  of  the  revels 
to  Theseus,  A  Midsummer- 
Night's  Dream:  Act  I,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  1 

pHii.oTi's,  sen'ant,  Timon  of 
Athens:    Act  III,  sc.  iv 

PiiRYNiA,  mistress  to  Alcibiades, 
Timon  of  Athens:  Act  IV,  sc. 
iii 

Pierce,  Sir,  of  Exton,  King 
Richard  II:  Act  V,  sc.  iv,  v, 
vi 

Pinch,  a  schoolmaster.  The  Com- 
edy of  Errors:     Act  IV,  sc.  iv 

PiNDARus,  servant  to  Cassius, 
Julius  Ccesar:  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii;  Act   V,  sc.   iii 

PiSAXio,  servant  to  Posthumus, 
Cymbeline:    Act    I,    sc.    i,    iii, 

V,  vi;  Act  II,  sc,  iii;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii,  iv,  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii; 
Act  V,  sc.  V 

Pistol,  King  Henry  IV:  Part 
2,  Act  II,  sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc. 
iii,  v;  King  Henry  V:  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  vi;  Act 
IV,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i; 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor:     Act 

2 


I,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  v 

Plantagenet,  Richard,  son  of 
Richard,  late  Earl  of  Cam- 
bridge, afterwards  Duke  of 
York:  see  Duke  of  York 

Plantagexet,  Mahcauet,  daugh- 
ter to  the  Duke  of  Clarence, 
King  Richard  III:  Act  IV, 
sc.  i 

Plantagenet,  Edward,  see  Ed- 
ward  IV 

Plantagenet,  Richard,  son  of 
Duke  of  York,  afterwards 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  2,  Act  V, 
sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Part  3,  Act  I,  sc. 
i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv, 
vi;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i,  V,  vii,  viii;  Act  V,  sc. 
i,  iii,  iv,  v,  vi,  vii 

PoiNS,  King  Henry  IV:  Part  1, 
Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv; 
Part  2,  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv 

PoLixENEs,  King  of  Bohemia, 
The  Winter's  Tale:  Act  I,  sc. 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc,  ii,  iv;  Act  V, 
sc.  iii 

PoLoxjTJS,  Lord  Chamberlain, 
Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmark: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  II,  sc,  i, 
ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv 

PoMPEius,  Sextus,  Antony  and 
Cleopatra:  Act  II,  sc,  i,  vi, 
vii 

PosiPEY,  servant  to  Mistress 
Overdone,  Measure  for  Meas- 
ure: Act  I,  sc,  ii;  Act  II,  sc, 
i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii,  iii 

Portia,  a  rich  heiress.  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice:  Act  I,  sc. 
ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  vii,  ix;  Act 
III,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Portia,    wife    to    Brutus,    Julius 


15 


ludex  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


Caesar:  Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iv 

Priam,  King  of  Troy,  Troilus 
and  Cressida:  Act  II,  sc.  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  iii 

PiiiKCEss  OF  Fkance,  Thc,  Love's 
Labor's  Lost:  Act  II,  sc.  i; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  ii. 

Proculeius,  friend  to  Caesar,  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra:  Act  V, 
sc.  i,  ii 

Prospero,  the  righit  Duke  of 
Milan,  The  Tempest:  Act  I, 
sc,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Proteus,  The  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 
II,  sc.  ii,  iv,  vi;  Act  III,  sc.  i, 
ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  V, 
sc.  ii,  iv 

Provost,  Measure  for  Measure: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii, 
iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

PuBLius,  senator,  Julius  Ccesar: 
Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i 

PuBLius,  son  to  Marcus  Androni- 
cus,  Titus  Andronicus:  Act 
IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Puck,  or  Robin  Goodfellow,  A 
Midsummer-Night's  Dream: 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc. 
i,  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i 


Q 


Queen,  wife  to  Cymbeline,  Cym^ 
beline:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  v;  Act 
II,  sc.  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  v 

QuEEX  to  King  Richard  II, 
King  Richard  II:  Act  II,  sc. 
i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  iv;  Act  V, 
sc.  i 

Quickly,    Mistress,    servant    to 
Doctor  Caius,  Merry   Wives  of 
Windsor:    Act   I,  sc.   iv;    Act 

21 


II,  sc.  1,  11;  Act  III,  sc.  iv, 
v;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  v;  Act  V,  sc. 
i,  V 

Quickly,  Mistress,  hostess  of  a 
tavern  in  Eastcheap,  King 
Henry  IV:  Part  1,  Act  II, 
sc.  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Part 
2,  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  V,  sc. 
iv 

Quince,  a  carpenter,  A  Midsum- 
mer-Night's Dream:  Act  I, 
sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  1;  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  1 

Quintus,  son  to  Titus  Androni- 
cus, Titus  Andronicus:  Act  I, 
sc.   i;   Act   II,  SC.   11,   Hi;   Aot 

III,  sc.  i 


R 


Rambures,  French  Lord,  King 
Henry  V:  Act  III,  sc.  vil; 
Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  v 

Ratcliff,  Sir  Richard,  King 
Richard  III:  Act  II,  sc.  11; 
Act  III,  sc.  iii,  iv,  v;  Act  IV, 
sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  iii 

Regan,  daughter  to  Lear,  King 
Lear:  Act  I,  sc.  1;  Act  II,  sc. 
1,  ii,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  vil;  Act 
IV,  sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc.  1,  ill 

Reignier,  Duke  of  Anjou,  and 
titular  King  of  Naples,  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  1,  Act  I,  sc. 
ii,  vi;  Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii,  iv 

Reynaldo,  servant  to  Polonius, 
Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmark: 
Act  II,  sc.  i 

Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
afterwards  King  Richard  III, 
brother  to  King  Edward  IV, 
King  Richard  III:  Act  I,  sc. 
i,  ii,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act 
III,  sc.  i,  iv,  V,  vii;  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii,  iii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  iii,  iv,  v; 


6 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


see  also  Plant.igenet,  Richard 
RiciTARi)  II,  Kixci,  Khiff  Richard 
11:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv;  Act 
II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii; 
Act    IV,    sc.   i;    Act    V,   sc.   i, 

V 

Richmond,  Earl  of,  afterwards 
King  Henry  VII,  King  Rich- 
ard III:     Act   V,  sc.  ii,  iii,  v 

Richmond,  Earl  of,  see  Henry, 
Karl  of  Richmond 

Rivers,  Lord,  brother  to  Lady 
Grey,  King  Henry  VI:  Part 
3,  Act  IV,  sc.  iv;  King  Richard 
III:  Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc. 
i,  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  iii 

Robin,  page  to  FalstaflF,  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor:  Act  I,  sc. 
iii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc. 
ii,  iii 

RoDERiGO,  a  Venetian  gentleman, 
Othello:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii; 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Romeo,  son  to  ^lontague,  Borneo 
and  Juliet:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv; 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv,  vi;  Act 
III,  sc.  i,  iii,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Rosalind,  daughter  to  the  ban- 
ished Duke,  As  You  Like  It: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  iv; 
Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iv,  v;  Act  IV, 
sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv 

Rosaline,  lady  attending  on  the 
Princess,  Love's  Labor's  Lost: 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Rosencrantz,   a   courtier,   Ham- 

^  let.  Prince  of  Denmark:  Act 
II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv 

Ross,      nobleman      of      Scotland, 

Macbeth :     Act  I,  sc.  ii,  iii,  iv, 

vi;  Act  II,  sc.  iii,  iv;  Act  III, 

sc.  i,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iii,  iv, 

viii 

21' 


Ross,  Lord,  King  Richard  II: 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i 

RousiLLON,  Countess  of,  mother 
to  Bertram,  All's  Well  That 
Ends  Well:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii; 
Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii, 
iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc. 
iii 

RoTHERHAJvr,  Thomas:  see  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  King  Richard 
III: 

RuGDY,  servant  to  Doctor  Caius, 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor: 
Act  I,  sc.  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii 

Rutland,  Earl  of,  see  Edmund, 
son  of  Yoi'k 


Salarino,  friend  to  Antonio  and 
Bassanio,  The  Merchant  of 
Venice:  Act  I,  sc.  1;  Act  II, 
sc.  iv,  vi,  viii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  iii 

Salanjo,  friend  to  Antonio  and 
Bassanio,  The  Merchant  of 
Venice:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II, 
sc.  iv,  viii;  Act  III,  sc.  i 

Salerio,  friend  to  Antonio  and 
Bassanio,  The  Merchant  of 
Venice:  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act 
IV,  sc.  1 

Salisbury,  Earl  of.  King  Henry 
V:    Act  IV,  sc.  iii 

Salisbury,  Earl  of.  King  Henry 
VI:  Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  vi; 
Part  2,  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 
II,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i, 
ii,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 

Salisbury,  Earl  of.  King  John: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i; 
Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  V,  sc. 
ii,  iv,  vii 

Salisbury,  Earl  of.  King  Richard 
II:  Act  II,  sc.  iv;  Act  III, 
sc.  ii,  iii 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAJNI 


Sampsox,  servant  to  Capulet, 
Romeo  and  Juliet:     Act  I,  sc.  i 

Saxds,  Lord,  King  Henry  VIII: 
Act  I,  sc.  iii,  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  i; 
Act  III,  sc.  ii 

Saturxinus,  son  to  the  late  Em- 
peror of  Rome,  afterwards 
Emperor,  Titus  Andronicus: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  iii 

Say,  Lord,  King  Hennj  VI: 
Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  iv,  vii 

Scales,  Lord,  King  Henry  VI: 
Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  v 

Scarus,  friend  to  Antony,  Antony 
and  Cleopatra:  Act  III,  sc.  x; 
Act  IV,  sc.  vii,  viii,  x,  xii 

Scroop,  Lord,  King  Henry  V: 
Act  II,  sc.  ii 

Scroop,  Richard,  Archbishop  of 
York,  King  Henry  IV:  Part 
1,  Act  IV,  sc.  iv;  Part  2,  Act 
I,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii 

Scroop,  Sir  Stephex,  King  Rich- 
ard II:     Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii 

Sebastiax,  brother  to  Alonso, 
The  Tempest:  Act  I,  sc.  i; 
Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  iii; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Sebastiax,  brother  to  Viola, 
Twelfth  Night:  Act  II,  sc.  i; 
Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  i, 
iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

Seleucus,  attendant  on  Cleopa- 
tra, Antony  and  Cleopatra: 
Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Semproxius,  a  flattering  lord, 
Tim,on  of  Athens:  Act  III,  sc. 
iii 

Sergeaxt,  A  French,  King  Henry 
VI:     Part  1,  .\ct  II,  sc.  i 

Servilius,  servant  to  Timon, 
Timon  of  Athens:  Act  II,  sc. 
ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iv 

Seytox,  an   officer   attending  on 

21 


Macbeth,  Macbeth:  Act  V, 
sc.  ii,  v 
Shallow,  country  justice.  King 
Henry  IV:  Part  3,  Act  III, 
sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  v; 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor:     Act 

I,  sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 
III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii 

Shylock,  a  rich  Jew,  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice:  Act  I,  sc. 
iii;  Act  II,  sc.  v;  Act  III,  sc. 
i,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  1 

SilexiCe,  country  justice.  King 
Henry  IV:  Part  2,  Act  III, 
sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  iii 

Silius,  an  officer  in  Ventidius's 
army,  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 
Act  III,  sc.  i 

Silvia,  beloved  of  Valentine,  The 
Tico  Gentlemen  of  Verona: 
Act  II,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc. 
ii,  iii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv 

SiLvius,  a  shepherd.  As  You  Like 
It:  Act  II,  sc.  iv;  Act  III, 
sc.  v;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii;  Act  V, 
sc.  ii,  iv 

SiMoxiDEs,  King  of  Pentapolis, 
Pericles,   King    of    Tyre:     Act 

II,  sc.  ii,  iii,  v 

SiMPCOx,  an  impostor.  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  3,  Act  1 1, 
sc.  i 

Simple,  servant  to  Slender, 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor:  Act 
I,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  i; 
Act  IV,  sc.  V 

SiWARD,  earl  of  Northumberland, 
general  of  the  English  forces, 
Macbeth:  Act  V,  sc.  iv,  vi, 
vii,  viii 

SiwARD,  YouxG,  Macbeth:  Act 
V,  sc.  iv,  vii 

Slender,  cousin  to  Shallow, 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor:  Act 
I,  sc.  i;   Act   II,  sc  iii;   Act 


8 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  v 

Sly,  Chhistopiieh,  a  tinker,  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew:  Induc- 
tion, sc.  i,  ii;  Act  I,  sc.  i 

Smith,  tlie  weaver,  follower  of 
Jack  Cade,  rebel.  King  Henry 
VI:     Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  vi 

Snout,  a  tinker,  A  Midsiimmer- 
Night'n  Dream:  Act  I,  sc.  ii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii 

Snug,  a  joiner,  A  Midsummer- 
Night's  Dream:  Act  I,  sc.  ii; 
Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii 

SoLiNus,  duke  of  Ephesus,  The 
Comedy  of  Errors:  Act  I,  sc. 
1;  Act  V,  sc.  i 

SojiEHSET,  Eaul  of,  John  Beau- 
fort, afterwards  Duke  of 
Somerset,  King  Henry  VI: 
Part  1,  Act  II,  sc.  iv;  Act  III, 
sc.  i,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iv; 
Part  2,  Act  I,  sc.   i,  iii;   Act 

III,  sc.  1,  ii;   Act   IV,  sc.  ix; 
Act  V,  sc.   i,  ii;   Part  3,   Act 

IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  vi;  Act  V,  sc. 
i,  ii,  iv,  v 

SoMERviLLE,  SiK  JoHX,  King 
Henry  VI:    Part  3,  Act  V,  sc.  i 

South- WELL,  John,  priest,  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  2,  Act  I,  sc, 
iv;   Act  II,  sc.  iii 

Speed,  a  clownish  servant  to 
Valentine,  The  Two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act 
II,  sc.  1,  iv,  v;  Act  III,  sc.  i; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i 

Stafford,  Sir  Humphrey,  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  2,  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii,  iii;  Part  3,  Act  IV,  sc.  i 

Stafford,  William,  brother  of 
Sir  Humphrey  Stafford,  King 
Henry  VI:  Part  2,  Act  IV, 
sc.  ii,  iii 

Stanley,  Sir  John,  King  Henry 
VI:     Part  3,  Act   HI,  sc.  iv 

Stanley,     Sir     Williasi,     King 

2 


Henry    VI:     Part  3,   Act    IV, 

sc.  v 
Stanley,  Lord,  called  also  Earl 

OF   Deruy,   King   Richard   III: 

Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii; 

Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc. 

i,  ii,  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  iii,  v 
Starveling,  a  tailor,  A  Midsum- 
mers-Night's   Dream:     Act    I, 

sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  IV, 

sc.  ii 
Stephano,     servant     to     Portia, 

The  Merchant  of  Venice:    Act 

V,  sc.  i 
Stephano,     a     drunken     Butler, 

The  Tempest:     Act    II,  sc.  ii, 

Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  1; 

Act  V,  sc.  i 
Strato,  servant  to  Brutus,  Julius 

Ccesar:    Act  V,  sc.  v 
Suffolk,   Earl   of.   King   Henry 

VI:    Part    1,    Act    II,   sc.    iv; 

Act  III,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc. 

1;   Act   V,   sc.   iii,   v;   Part    II, 

Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  i, 

iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  IV, 

sc.  i 
Suffolk,  Duke  of,  King  Henry 

VIII:     Act   I,   sc.    ii;    Act    1 1, 

sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV, 

so.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii,  v 
Surrey,  Duke  of,  King  Richard 

II:     Act  IV,  sc.  i 
Surrey,    Earl    of.    King    Henry 

IV:     Part  2,  Act  III,  sc.  i 
Surrey,  Earl  of,  son  to  Duke  of 

Norfolk,    King     Richard    III: 

Act  V,  sc.  iii 
Surrey,    Earl    of.    King    Henry 

VIII:    Act  III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV, 

sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  iii 


Talbot,  John,  King  Henry   VI: 
Part  1,  Act  IV,  sc.  v,  vi,  vii 


l.Q 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


Talbot,    Lord,    afterwards    Earl      Timon,  a  noble  Athenian,  Timon 


of    Shrewsbury,    King    Henry 

VI:    Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  iv,  v; 

Act   II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act   III, 

sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  v, 

vi,  vii 
Tamora,    queen    of    the    Goths, 

Titus  Androuicus:     Act   I,   sc. 

i;   Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iii;   Act   IV, 

sc.  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii 
Tarquin,  Rape  of  Lucrece, 
Taurus,      lieutenant-general      to 

Caesar,  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 

Act  III,  sc.  viii,  X 
Tearsheet,    Doll,    King    Henry 

IV:     Part    2,   Act    II,   sc.    iv; 

Act  V,  sc.  iv 
Thaisa,   daughter   to   Simonides, 

Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre:    Act 

II,  sc.  ii,  iii,  v;  Act  III,  sc.  ii, 
iv;  Act  V,  sc.  iii 

Thaliard,  a  lord  of  Antioch, 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre:  Act 
I,  sc.  i,  iii 

Thersites,  a  deformed  and  scur- 
rilous Grecian,  Troilus  and 
Cressida:  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii; 
Act  III,  sc.  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i, 
ii,  iv 

Theseus,  Duke  of  Athens,  A 
Midsummer-Night's  Dream: 
Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i; 
Act  V,  sc.  i 

Thomas,  friar,  Pleasure  for 
Measure:    Act  I,  sc.  iii 

Thuhio,  a  foolish  rival  to  Valen- 
tine, The  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona:    Act   II,   sc.   iv;    Act 

III,  sc.  i,  ii;    Act   IV,  sc.   ii; 
Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv 

Thyheus,  friend  to  Caesar,  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra:  Act  III, 
sc.  xii,  xiil 

Timaxdra,  mistress  to  Alcibiades, 
Timon  of  Athens:  Act  IV,  sc. 
iii 


of   Athens:    Act    I,    sc.    i,    ii; 

Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  iv, 

vi;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V, 

sc.  i 
Titania,  queen  of  the  fairies,  A 

Midsummer-Night's        Dream : 

Act   II,  sc.   i,  ii;   Act   III,   sc. 

i;  Act  IV,  sc.  1;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Titinius,   friend   to   Brutus   and 

Cassius,     Julius     Ccesar:     Act 

IV,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  iii 
Titus,  servant,  Timon  of  Athens: 

Act  III,  sc.  iv 
Touchstone,    a    clown.    As    You 
Like  It:     Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  II, 
sc.  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act 

V,  sc.  i,  iii,  iv 

Traxio,     servant     to     Lucentio, 

The    Taming    of    the    Shrew: 

Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  II,  sc.  1; 

Act  III,  sc.  11;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii, 

iv;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Travers,  retainer  of  Northumber- 
land,  King   Henry   IV:    Part 

2,  Act  I,  sc.  i 
Trebonius,     conspirator,     Julius 

Ccesar:    Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act 

III,  sc.  i 
Thinculo,  a  Jester,  The  Tempest: 

Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 

Act  IV,  sc.  1;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Troilus,    son    of   Priam,    Troilus 

and  Cressida:    Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii; 

Act  II,  sc.  ii;  Act   III,  sc.  ii; 

Act   IV,  sc.   ii,  iii,  iv,  v;   Act 

V,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv,  vi,  x 
Tubal,  a  Jew,  friend  to  Shylock, 

The  Merchant  of  Venice:    Act 

III,  sc.  1 
Tybalt,    nephew    to    Lady    Cap- 

ulet,  Romeo   and  Juliet:     Act 

I,  sc.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  i 
Tyrrel,  Sir  James,  King  Richard 

III:    Act  IV,  sc.  ii,  iii 


220 


SHAKESPEARE 


Index  of  Characters 


U 


Ulysses,  Grecian  commander, 
Troilus  and  Cressida:  Act  I, 
sc.  iii;  Act  II,  sc.  iii;  Act  III, 
sc.  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  v;  Act  V, 
sc.  i,  ii,  V 

Ursula,  gentlewoman  attending 
on  Hero,  Much  Ado  About 
Nothhiff:     Act    II,    sc.    i;    Act 

III,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iv 
Urswick,  Christopher,  a  priest. 

King    Richard    III:     Act    IV, 
so.  V 

V 

Valentine,  A  gentleman  of  Ve- 
rona, The  Two  Oentlemen  of 
Vero7ia:  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act  II, 
sc.  i,  iv;   Act    III,  sc.   i;  Act 

IV,  sc.  1;  Act  V,  sc.  iv 
Valentine,  gentleman  attending 

on     Orsino,     Twelfth     Night: 
Act  I,  sc.  i,  iv 
Valeria,      friend      to      Virgilia, 
Coriolanus :    Act  I,  sc.  iii;  Act 

II,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  iii,  v 
Varrius,   Measure   for   Measure: 

Act  IV,  sc.  v;  Act  V,  sc.  i 
Varrius,   friend   to  Sextus   Pom- 

peius,  Antony   and  Cleopatra: 

Act  II,  sc.  i 
Varro,  servant  to  Brutus,  Jidiiis 

Ccpsar:    Act  IV,  sc.  iii 
Vauohan,     Sir     Thomas,     King 

Richard  III:     Act  III,  sc.  iii 
Vaux,    King    Henry    VI:     Part 

3,  Act  III,  sc.  ii 
Vaux,  Sir  Nicholas,  King  Henry 

VIII:    Act  II,  sc.  i 
Velutus,  Sicixius,  tribune  of  the 

people,  Coriolanus:     Act  I,  sc. 

i;    Act    II,    sc.    i,    ii,    iii;    Act 

III.  sc.   i,   iii;   Act    IV,   sc.    ii, 
vi;  Act  V,  sc.  1,  iv 

221 


Venice,  Duke  of.  The  Merchant 

of  }'enice:    Act  IV,  sc.  i 
Venice,  Duke  of,  Othello:    Act 

I,  sc.  iii 

Ventidius,  one  of  Timon's  false 
friends,  Timon  of  Athens: 
Act  I,  sc.  ii 

Ventidius,  friend  to  Antony, 
Antony    and    Cleopatra:     Act 

II,  sc.  ii,  iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i 
Verges,     a     headborough,     Much 

Ado  About  Nothing:     Act  III, 

sc.   iii,  v;   Act   IV,  sc.  ii;   Act 

V,  sc.  i 
Vernon,  of  the   White   Rose  or 

Yorls  faction.  King  Henry  VI: 

Part  1,  Act  II,  sc.  iv;  Act  III, 

sc.  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i 
Vernon,     Sir      Richard,      King 

Henry   IV:     Part    1,   Act   IV, 

sc.  i,  iii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii,  v 
Venus,   Passionate   Pilgrim,    Ve- 
nus and  Adonis 
ViNCENTio,    Duke,    Measure   for 

Measure:    Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 

II,   sc.   iii;    Act    III,   sc.   i,   ii; 

Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  v;  Act  V, 

sc.  i 
ViNCENTio,  an  old  gentleman  of 

Pisa,      The      Taming     of     the 

Shrew:    Act  IV,  sc.  v;  Act  V, 

sc.  1,  ii 
Viola,    Twelfth    Night:     Act    I, 

sc.  ii,  iv,  v;  Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv; 

Act  III,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  V,  sc,  i 
ViOLENTA,    neighbor    and    friend 

to  the   Widow,  All's  well  that 

ends  well:    Act  III,  sc.  v 
Virgilia,     wife     to     Coriolanus, 

Coriolamis:     Act     I,     sc.     iii; 

Act  II,  sc.  i;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii; 

Act  V,  sc.  iii,  V 
VoLTiMAND,   a  courtier,   Hamlet, 

Prince  of  Denmark:     Act  I,  so. 

ii;  Act  II,  sc.  ii 
VoLUMNiA,  mother  to  Coriolanus, 


Index  of  Characters 


WILLIAM 


Coriolanus:  Act  I,  sc,  iii; 
Act  II,  se.  i;  Act  III,  sc.  ii; 
Act  IV,  sc.  i,  ii;  Act  V,  sc. 
iii,  V 
VoLUMNius,  friend  to  Brutus  and 
Cassius,  Julius  Cwsar:    Act  V, 

SC.  V 

W 

Warwick,  Earl  of.  King  Henry 

IV:    Part    2,   Act    III,   se.   i; 

Act  IV,  sc.  iv,  v;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 
Warwick,  Earl  of,  Kin(/  Henry 

V:    Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc. 

vii,  viii;   Act  V,  sc.  ii 
WARvncK,  Earl  of.  King  Henry 

VI:     Part  1,  Act  I,  sc.  i;  Act 

11,   sc.  iv;   Act   III,  sc.  i,  iv; 

Act  IV,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc.  iv; 

Part  2,  Act  I,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act  II, 

sc.  ii;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Act 

V,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii;  Part  3,  Act  I, 

sc.  i;  Act  II,  sc.  i,  ii,  iii,  iv,  vi; 

Act  III,  sc,  iii;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii, 

iii,  vi,  viii;  Act  V,  sc.  i,  ii 
Westminster,    Abbot    of.    King 

Richard  II:    Act  IV,  sc.  i 
Westmoreland,    Earl    of.    King 

Henry  IV:    Part  1,  Act  I,  sc. 

i;  Act  IV,  sc.  ii;  Act  V,  sc.  i, 

ii,  iv,  v;    Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc. 

i,  ii,  iii,  iv;  Act  V,  sc.  ii 
Westmoreland,    Earl    of.    King 

Henry   V:    Act  I,  sc.  ii;  Act 

II,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  sc.  iii;  Act 

V,  sc.  ii 
Westmoreland,    Earl    of.    King 

Henry  VI:     Part  3,  Act  I,  sc.  i 
Whitmore,  Walter,  King  Henry 

VI:    Part  2,  Act  IV,  sc.  i 
William,    a    country    fellow,    in 

love  with  Audrey,  Aa  You  Like 

It:    Act  V,  sc.  i 


Williams,  soldier  in  King  Hen- 
ry's army.  King  Henry  V: 
Act  IV,  sc.  i,  viii 

Willoughby,  Lord,  King  Rich- 
ard II:  Act  II,  sc.  i,  iii;  Act 
III,  sc.  i 

AVoLSEY,  Cardinal,  King  Henry 
VIII:  Act  I,  sc.  i,  ii,  iv;  Act 
II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  i,  ii 

WooDviLE,  Lieutenant  of  the 
Tower,  King  Henry  VI:  Part 
1,  Act  I,  sc.  iii 


X,  Y,  Z 

York,  Archbishop  of,  King 
Richard  III :    Act  II,  sc.  iv 

York,  Duke  of,  son  to  King 
Edward  IV,  King  Richard  III : 
Act  II,  sc.  iv;  Act  III,  sc.  i 

York,  Richard  Plantagenet, 
Duke  of:  King  Henry  VI: 
Part  I,  Act  II,  sc.  iv,  v;  Act 

III,  sc.  i,  iv;  Act  IV,  sc.  i,  iii; 
Act  V,  sc.  iii,  iv;  Part  2,  Act 
I,  sc,  i,  iii,  iv;  Act  II,  sc.  ii, 
iii;  Act  III,  sc.  i;  Act  V,  sc. 
i,  ii,  iii;  Part  3,  A.ct  I,  sc.  i, 
ii,  iv 

York,  Duchess  of,  King  Richard 
II:    Act  V,  sc.  ii,  iii 

York,  Duchess  of,  mother  to 
King  Edward  IV,  King  Rich- 
ard III:    Act  II,  sc.  ii,  iv;  Act 

IV,  sc.  i,  iv 

York,  Duke  of,  cousin  to  King 
Henry  V,  King  Henry  V: 
Act  IV,  sc.  iii 

Young  Lucius,  a  boy,  son  to 
Lucius,  Titus  Andronicus:  Act 
III,  sc.  ii;  Act  IV,  SC  i,  ii,  iiij 
Act  V,  sc.  iii 


222 


THE  FIRST  PART  OF 
KING  HENRY  VI 


All  the  unsigned  footnotes  in  this  volume  are  by  the 
writer  of  the  article  to  which  they  are  appended.  The  in- 
terpretation of  the  initials  signed  to  the  others  is:  I.  G. 
^Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. ;  H.  N.  H.=  Henry  Norman 
Hudson,  A.M.;  C.  H.  H.=  C.  H.  Herford,  Litt.D. 


To  those  Gentlemen,  hia  Quondam  acquaintance,  that  spend 
their  wits  in  making  Plaies,  K.  G.  xcisheth  a  bet- 
ter exercise,  and  zvisdom  to  present 
his  extremities. 

Tliou  famous  graccr  of  Tragedians,  .  .  .  3'oung 
Juvenall,  that  byting  Satyrlst,  .  .  .  and  thou  no  less 
deserving  than  the  other  two.  .  .  .  Base-minded  men 
al  three  of  you,  if  by  my  miserie  ye  be  not  warned,  for  unto 
none  of  you  (hke  me)  sought  those  burres  to  cleave:  those 
Puppets  (I  mean)  that  speake  from  our  mouths,  those  an- 
ticks  garnisht  in  our  colours.  Is  it  not  strange  that  I,  to 
whom  they  all  have  been  beholding ;  is  it  not  like  that  you, 
to  whom  they  all  have  been  beholding,  shall  (were  ye  in 
that  case  that  I  am  now)  be  both  at  once  of  them  for- 
saken ?  Yes,  trust  them  not :  for  there  is  an  upstart  Crow, 
beautified  with  our  feathers,  that  with  his  Tygers  heart 
wrapt  in  a  Players  hide,  supposes  he  is  as  well  able  to 
bumbast  out  a  blanke  verse  as  the  best  of  you ;  and  being 
an  absolute  lohannes  fac  totum,  is  in  his  own  conceit  the 
onely  Shake-scene  in  a  countrie.  O  that  I  might  entreate 
your  rare  wits  to  be  imployed  in  more  profitable  courses: 
and  let  these  Apes  imitate  your  past  excellence,  and  never 
more  acquaint  them  with  your  admired  inventions. 

Greene's  Groatsworth  of  Wit,  bought  with  a  Million 
of  Repentance  (written  before  his  death  [1592], 
and  published  at  his  dying  request). 


PREFACE  TO  THE  THREE  PARTS 

By  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. 

FIRST    EDITIONS 

(T.)  The  First  Part  of  Henry  the  Sixth  was  In  all  prob- 
cibilit}'  printed  for  the  first  time  in  the  First  Folio.  On 
November  8,  1623,  Blount  &  Jaggard  entered,  among 
other  copies  of  Shakespeare's  works  "not  formerly  entered 
to  other  men,"  "the  Thirde  Parte  of  Henry  the  Sixt,"  by 
which  term  they  evidently  referred  to  the  play  which, 
chronologically  considered,  precedes  the  Second  and  Third 
Parts. 

The  opening  linos  of  the  play  are  sufficient  to  render  it 
well-nigh  certain  that  1  Henry  VI  is  not  wholly  Shake- 
speare's ;  ^  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  "  the  hand 
of  the  Great  Master  is  only  occasionally  perceptible " 
thei'ein.  Probabl}--  we  have  here  an  inferior  production 
by  some  unknown  dramatist,^  writing  about  1589,  to  which 
Shakespeare  made  important  "additions"  in  the  j^ear  1591 ; 
to  him  may  safely  be  assigned  the  greater  part  of  Act 
TV.  ii.-vii.,  especially  the  Talbot  episodes  (scene  vil.,  in 
spite  of  its  rhyme,  has  the  Shakespearian  note,  and  is  note- 
worthy from  the  point  of  view  of  literary  history)  ;  the 
wooing  of  Margaret  by  Suffolk  (V.  iii.)  has,  too,  some- 

1  Cp.  Coleridge,  "If  you  do  not  feel  the  impossibility  of  [these 
lines]  having  been  written  by  Shakespeare,  all  I  dare  suggest  is, 
that  you  may  have  ears, — for  so  has  another  animal, — but  an  ear 
you  cannot  have,  me  judice." 

2  Dr.  Furnivall  sees  at  least  four  hands  in  the  play;  Mr.  Fleay 
assigns  it  to  Peele,  Marlowe,  Lodge  or  Nash,  and  Shakespeare.  The 
attempt  to  determine  the  autliorship  is  futile,  owing  to  the  absence 
of  all  evidence  on  the  point. 

is 


Preface  PARTS  I,  II  AND  III  OF 

thing  of  Shakespeare's  touch;  finally,  there  is  the  Temple 
Garden  scene  (II.  iv.),  which  is  certainly  Shakespeare's, 
though,  judged  by  metrical  peculiarities  it  may  well  have 
been  added  some  years  after  1591.  We  may  be  sure  that 
at  no  time  in  his  career  could  he  have  been  guilty  of  the 
crude  and  vulgar  presentment  of  Joan  of  Arc  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  play. 

(II.)  The  Second  and  Third  Parts  of  Henry  the  Sixth, 
forming  together  a  two-sectioned  play,  have  come  down  to 
us  in  two  versions: — (a)  The  Folio  version,  authorized 
by  Shakespeare's  editors;  (6)  a  carelessly  printed  early 
Quarto  version,  differing  in  many  important  respects  from 
(a)  ;  about  3,240  lines  in  the  Quarto  edition  appear  either 
in  the  same  or  an  altered  form  in  the  Folio  edition,  while 
about  2,740  lines  in  the  latter  are  entirely  new.^  The  title- 
pages  of  the  first  Quartos,  corresponding  to  Parts.  I. 
and  II.  respectively,  are  as  follows: — (i.)  "The  First 
part  of  the  Con  |  tention  betwixt  the  two  famous  houses 
of  Yorke  |  and  Lancaster,  with  the  death  of  the  good  | 
Duke  Humphrey:  |  And  the  banishment  and  death  of 
the  Duke  of  |  Suffolk,  and  the  Tragical!  end  of  the 
proud  Cardinall  |  of  Winchester,  with  the  notable  Re- 
bellion I  of  lacke  Cade:  \  And  the  Duke  of  Yorke's  first 
claime  unto  the  \  Crowne.  London.  Printed  by  Thomas 
Creed,  for  Thomas  Millington,  |  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his 
shop  vnder  Saint  Peter's  |  Church  in  Cornwall.  |  1594."  ^ 
[Q.I.]  (ii)  "The  |  true  Tragedie  of  Richard  |  Duke 
of  Yorke,  and  the  death  of  \  good  King  Henrie  the 
Sixt,  I  with  the  whole  contention  hetweene  \  the  two  Houses 
Lancaster  |  and  Yorke,  as  it  was  sundrie  times  |  acted  by 
the  Right  Honoura  |  ble  the  Earle  of  Pem-brooke  his 
Seruants.  |  Printed  at  London  by  P.  S.  for  Thomas  Mill- 
ing- I  ton,  and  are  to  he  sold  at  his  shoppe  under  \  Saint 

1  "Out  of  3075  lines  in  Part  II.,  there  are  1715  new  lines  and  some 
840  altered  lines  (many  but  very  slightly  altered),  and  some  520 
old  lines.  In  Part  III.,  out  of  2902  lines,  there  are  about  1021  new 
lines,  about  871  altered  lines,  and  above  1010  old  lines." 

2  Entered  in  the  Stationers'  Register,  March  12,  1593. 

X 


KING   HENRY   VI  Preface 

Peter's  Church  in  |  Cornwall,  1595."  [Q.  1.]  Second  edi- 
tions of  both  (i.)  and  (ii.)  appeared  in  1600,  and  in  1619 
a  third  edition  of  the  two  plays  together: — "The  |  Whole 
Contention  |  bctweene  the  two  Famous  |  Houses,  Lancas- 
ter and  I  YoRKE.  |  With  the  Tragicall  ends  of  the  good 
Duke  Humfrey,  Richard  Duke  of  Yorke,  and  King  Henrie 
the  Sixt.  Divided  into  two  Parts :  and  newly  corrected  and 
enlarged.  Written  by  William  Shakespeare,  Gent,  j 
Printed  at  London,  for  T.  P."      [Q.  3.] 

(Both  the  First  and  Third  Quartos  have  been  reproduced 
by  photolithography  in  the  series  of  Quarto  Facsimiles 
issued  under  the  superintendence  of  Dr.  Furnivall ;  Nos.  23, 
^■i,  37,  38.)  In  the  comparison  of  Quartos  1  and  3  one 
finds  that  the  corrections  are  principally  in  Part  I. ;  in  Part 
II.  the  alterations  are  almost  all  of  single  words  ;  taken  alto- 
gether, however,  the  changes  are  slight,  and  are  such  "as 
may  have  been  made  by  a  Revizer  who  heard  the  Folio  Play 
(3* Henry  VI)  with  a  copy  of  Q.  1  or  Q.  2  in  his  hand, 
or  who  had  a  chance  of  taking  a  note  or  two  from  the 
Burbage-playhouse  copy,  and  then  made  further  correc- 
tions at  home."  At  all  events,  Q.  3  is  a  more  correct  copy 
of  the  older  form  of  2,  3  Henry  VI  than  we  have  in  Q.  1, 
though  its  superiority  does  not  bring  it  much  nearer  to  the 
Folio  version.^ 

THE  RELATION  OF  THE  QUARTOS  TO  2  AND  3  HENRY  VI 

The  most  cursory  glance  at  the  Quartos  is  enough  to 
convince  one  that  scant  justice  has  been  done  to  the  author 
of  the  plays,  and  that  the  printers  of  the  Quartos  must 
have  had  very  careless  copy  before  them.  Pi-obably  many 
errors  may  be  referred  to  the  indifferent  reporters  em- 
ployed by  the  pirate  publisher. 

"Some  by  stenography  drexo 
The  plot,  put  m  print,  scarce  one  word  true"; 

1  A  condensed  version  of  the  three  parts  of  Henry  VI.,  in  ont 
play,  was  prepared  by  Charles  Kemble,  and  has  recently  been  printed 
for  the  first  time  in  the  Irving  Shakespeare  from  the  unique  copy 
in  Mr.  Irving's  possession. 


Preface  PARTS   I,   II   AND   III   OF 

so  complained  Thomas  Heywood  of  the  treatment  to  which 
one  of  his  productions  had  been  subjected;  he  complained, 
too,  that  "plays  were  copied  only  by  the  ear,"  "publisht 
in  savage  and  ragged  ornaments."  But  this  probable 
cause  of  much  corruption  in  Tlie  Contention  and  The  True 
Tragedy  will  not  account  for  {a)  the  inherent  weakness 
of  a  great  part  of  both  plays;  (6)  the  un-Shakespearean 
character  of  many  important  passages  and  whole  scenes. 
On  the  other  hand,  many  of  these  latter  passages  are  to 
be  found  (it  is  true,  often  in  an  improved  form)  in  the 
Second  and  Third  Parts  of  Henry  VI,  as  printed  in  the 
Folio.  Hence  arises  the  most  complex  of  Shakespearean 
problems,  and  scholars  are  divided  on  the  question;  their 
views  may  be  grouped  under  four  heads,  according  as  it  is 
maintained  (1)  that  Shakespeare  was  the  author  of  th« 
four  plays ;  ^  ( 2 )  that  Shakespeare  was  merely  the  reviser^ 
retaining  portions  of  his  predecessor's  work,  altering  por- 
tions, and  adding  passages  of  his  own;  ^  (3)  that  the  por- 
tions common  to  the  old  plays,  and  2,  3  Henry  VI,  were 
Shakespeare's  contribution  to  the  original  dramas  (by 
Marlowe,  Greene,  Shakespeare,  and,  perhaps,  Peele;^  (4) 
that  INIarlowe,  Greene,  and,  perhaps,  Peele,  were  the  au- 
thors of  the  old  plays,  while  Shakespeare  and  Marlowe  were 
the  revisers,  working  as  collaborators.  The  fourth  view 
has  been  strenuously  maintained  in  an  elaborate  study  of 
the  subject,  contributed  to  the  Transactions  of  the  new 
Shakespeare  Society,*  where  the  Marlowan  passages  in 
the  Quartos  are  definitely  attributed  to  Marlowe,  the  Green- 
ish to  Greene,  and  others  to  Peele,  while  the  Marlowan 
lines  which  occur  for  the  first  time  in  2,  3  Henry  VI  are 
accounted  for  by  assuming  that  Marlowe  and  Shakespeare 
jointly  revised  the  older  plays;  so  that  in  some  cases  we 

1  Cp.  Knight's  Essay  on  the  subject  in  The  Pictorial  Shakespeare. 

2  Malone,  Variorum  Shakespeare,  1821,  Vol.  XVIII. 

8R.  Grant  White,  Shakespeare  Vol.  VII.  Cp.  Halliwell,  First 
Sketches  of  2  and  3  Henr;/  VI;  8h.  Soc.  Reprints,  1843;  Swin- 
burne, Study  of  Shakespeare;  &c. 

4  Miss  Jane  Lee,  New  Shak.  Soc,  1876. 

Zll 


KING   HENRY   VI  Preface 

have  Shakespeare  revising  the  work  of  Marlowe  and 
Greene,  at  others  Shakespeare  and  Marlowe  revising  the 
work  of  Greene.^ 

It  is  undoubtedly  true  that  many  passages  in  The  Con- 
tention and  The  True  Tragedie  arc  reminiscent  of  Mar- 
lowe and  Greene,  and  that  such  a  passage  as  2  Henry  VI 
(IV.  i.  1-11),  which  occurs  for  the  first  time  in  the  Folio, 
is  also  strongly  Marlowan  in  character,  but  this  and  sim- 
ilar rhetorical  sketches  may  very  well  have  been  in  exist- 
ence before  1594,  being  omitted  from  the  acting  version 
of  the  play,  and  hence  not  found  in  The  Contention. 
Again,  the  famous  Jack  Cade  scene  (Act  IV.  ii.)  is  com- 
mon to  the  Quarto  and  Folio ;  according  to  this  fourth 
view  it  must  be  attributed  to  Greene,  but  there  is  nothing 
in  the  whole  of  his  extant  plays  to  justify  the  ascription. 

1  Miss  Lee's  conjectural  table  of  Shakespeare's  and  Marlowe's 
shares  in  2,  3  Henry  VI  is  none  the  less  of  value,  as  indicating  the 
doubtful  elements  of  the  plays,  though  one  may  not  accept  her  final 
conclusions.  It  is  here  printed  as  simplified  by  Prof.  Dowden 
(Shaiicspeare  Primer,  p.  76;  cp.  Shale.  Soc.  Trans.,  1876,  pp.  SOS- 
SOS).  "The  table  shows  in  detail  how  the  revision  was  effected. 
Thus  'Act  I.  Sc.  i.  S.,  M.  and  O.'  means  that  in  this  scene  Shakespeare 
was  revising  the  work  of  :\Iarlowe  and  Greene;  'Act  IV.  Sc.  x.  S. 
and  M.,  G.'  means  that  here  Shakespeare  and  Marlowe  were  revising 
the  work  of  Greene." 

"Henry  VI.  Part  77.— Act  I.  Sc.  i.  S.,  31.  and  G.;  Sc.  ii.  S.,  O.; 
Sc.  iii.  S.,  G.  and  M.;  Sc.  iv.  S.,  G.  Act  II.  Sc.  i.  S.,  G.;  Sc.  ii.  S., 
M.  and  (?)  G.;  Sc.  iii.  S.  and  (?)  M.,  G.j  Sc.  iv.  S.,  O.  Act  III. 
Sc.  i.  S.  and  (?)  M.,  37.  and  G.;  Sc.  ii.  S.  and  M.,  M.  and  G.;  Sc. 
iii.  S.,  M.  Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  M.,  G.;  Sc.  ii.,  iii.,  iv.  S.,  G.;  Sc.  v.  un- 
revised,  G.;  Sc.  vi.,  vii.,  viii.,  ix.  S.,  G.;  Sc.  x.  S.  and  M.,  G.  Act  V.  Sc 
i.  M.  and  S.,  M.  and  (?)  G-j  Sc.  ii.  M.  and  S.,  G.  and  M.;  Sc.  iii. 
S.,  G.  and  M. 

"Henry  VI.  Part  777.— Act  I.  Sc.  i.  S.,  3/.;  Sc.  ii.  M.,  37.;  Sc.  ui. 
unrevised,  3/.;  Sc.  iv.  S.,  37.  and  (?)  G.  Act  II.  Sc.  i.  M.  and  (?) 
S.,  3/.  and  (?)  G.;  Sc.  ii.  (?)  M.,  37.,  G.,  and  (?)  P.;  Sc.  iii.  S.  and 
M.,  37.;  Sc.  iv.  M.,  G.;  Sc.  v.  S.  and  (?)  M.,  G.;  Sc.  vi.  M.,  37.  and 
G.  Act  III.  Sc.  ..  S.,  G.;  Sc.  ii.  S.,  G.  and  (?)  37w;  Sc.  iii.  (?)  M., 
G.  and  (?)  P.  Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  S.,  G.;  Sc.  ii.  M.,  37.;  Sc.  iii.  S.,  3f.; 
Sc.  iv.  S.,  G.J  Sc.  v.  S.,  (?)  G.;  Sc.  vi.,  vii.  S.,  G.;  Sc.  viii.  S.  (?). 
Act  V.  Sc.  i.  M.,  G.  and  (?)  P.;  Sc.  ii.  S.,  37.  and  G.;  Sc.  iii.  M.,  G,; 
Sc.  iv.  S.,  G.  and  (?)  P.;  Sc.  v.,  vi.  S.,  3/.;  Sc.  vii.  unrevised,  G." 

xiii 


Ireface  PARTS    I,    II   AND    III    OF 

The  most  striking  speech  in  the  whole  of  2,  and  3,  Henry 
VI — viz.,  York's  "  She-wolf  of  France,  but  worse  tlian 
wolves  of  Irancfy"  is  to  be  found  verbatim  in  the  older 
Quartos.  That  Marlowe  was  capable  of  this  and  of  higher 
efforts  none  will  deny,  but  there  is  in  the  speech,  high- 
sounding  as  it  is,  a  certain  restraint  and  sanity,  an  absence 
of  lyrical  effect,  v»'hich  would  make  one  hesitate  before  as- 
signing it  to  jMarlov/e,  even  if  external  evidence  told  in 
favor  of,  and  not  against,  his  authorship.  Weighing  care- 
fully all  the  evidence,  one  is  inclined  to  see  in  the  Quartos 
of  1594-5,  a  garbled  shorthand  edition  of  an  acting  ver- 
sion, popular  at  the  time,  perhaps  chiefly  by  reason  of 
Shakespeare's  "additions"  to  earlier  plays,  previously  un- 
successful, possibly  the  work  of  Mariov.e  and  Greene,  or  of 
some  clever  disciple ;  the  correct  copy  of  this  pirated  edi- 
tion may  have  served  as  basis  for  the  revised  version  which 
Shakespeare  subsequently  prepared,  though  he  did  not  in 
this  instance  attempt  a  thorough  recast  of  his  materials: 
tlie  comparatively  few  important  "additions"  which  appear 
in  the  Folio  version,  and  only  there,  may  be  (i.)  Shakes- 
peare's contributions  to  the  older  plays  before  1594 ;  or 
(ii.)  the  work  of  the  original  author  or  authors,  omitted 
from  the  acting  version;  or  (iii.)  new  matter  added  by 
Shakespeare  any  time  between  1594  and  1600  {e.g.,  3 
Henry  VI,  v.,  11.  1-50 ).i 

DATE    OF    COMPOSITION 

(I.)  There  is  no  mention  of  Henry  VI  in  Mere's  famous 
list  in  Falladis  Tamia  (1598),  although  reference  is  there 
made  to  so  doubtful  a  production  as  Titus  Andronicus; 
the  omission  must  have  been  due  to  the  yesed  question  of 
authorship,  and  not  to  any  want  of  popularity  on  the  part 
of  the  plays:  as  early  as  1592  Nash  in  his  "Pierce  Permi- 

1  The  Cambridge  editors  put  the  matter  cautiously: — "We  cannot 
agree  with  Malone  on  the  one  hand,  that  they  (the  old  plays)  con- 
tain nothing  of  Shakespeare's,  nor  with  Mr.  Knight  on  the  other, 
that  they  are  entirely  his  work;  there  are  so  many  internal  proofs 
of  his  having  had  considerable  share  in  their  composition." 

xiv 


KING   HENRY   VI  Preface 

less"  referred  to  the  enthusiasm  of  Ehzabethan  playgoers 
for  the  Tulbot  scenes: — '"How  -would  it  have  joyed  brave 
Talbot,  the  terror  of  the  Freiich,  to  think  that  after  he 
had  been  two  hundred  years  in  his  tomb  he  should  triumph 
again  on  the  stage,  and  have  his  bones  embalmed  with  the 
tears  of  ten  thousand  spectators  {at  least  at  several  times) 
who,  vn  the  tragedian  that  represents  his  person,  behold 
him  fresh  bleeding."  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  1 
Henry  VI  is  here  referred  to,  and  especially  the  Shakes- 
pearian contributions  to  the  play.  According  to  Hens- 
lowe's  Diary  Henry  (or  Hary  Harey,  &c.)  the  Sixth  was 
performed  as  a  new  play  in  March  1591 ;  the  repeated  en- 
tries in  1592  fully  bear  out  Nash's  eulogy.  If,  as  seems 
very  probable,  Henslowe's  Henry  VI  is  identical  with  1 
Henry  VI,  we  have  the  actual  date  of  Shakespeare's  addi- 
tions to  an  old  and  crude  "chronicle  drama,"  the  property 
of  Lord  Strange's  Company.^ 

(II.)  To  the  same  year  as  Nash's  Pierce  Penniless  be- 
longs Greene's  posthumous  tract  The  Groatsworth  of  Wit 
bought  with  a  Million  of  Repentance?  At  the  end  of  the 
pamphlet,  published  by  Chettle  before  Dec,  1592,  oc- 
curs the  famous  address  "To  those  gentlemen  his  quon- 
dam acquaintance,"  etc.^  The  three  playmakers  to  whom 
his  remarks  are  directed  have  been  identified  as  (1)  Chris- 
topher Marlowe,  (2)  Thomas  Nash  (or  possibly  Lodge), 
and  (3)  George  Pcele.  The  point  of  the  whole  passage 
is  its  attack  on  players  in  general,  and  on  one  player  in 
particular,  who  was  usurping  the  playwright's  province.* 

1  Shakespeare  in  all  probability  belonged  to  this  Company ;  ia 
159+  it  was  merged  into  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  {vide  Halliweli's 
Outlines  of  the  Life  of  Shakespeare). 

2Cp.  Shakspere  Allusion-Books,  Part  I.  Edited  by  C.  M.  Ingleby 
for  The  New  Shakespeare  Society  (1874). 

3  Vide  quotation  on  page  v, 

4  Nash,  in  his  Apologie  for  Pierce  Penniless,  tells  us  that  Greene 
was  "chief  agent"  of  Lord  Pembroke's  Company,  "for  he  wrote  more 
than  four  other."  It  is  significant  that  the  title-page  of  Quarto  1  of 
The  True  Tragedie  expressly  states  that  the  play  had  been  acted  by 
this  Company. 

rv 


Preface  PARTS    I,   II   AND    III    OF 

The  words  "tiger's  heart  zcrapt  in  a  'player  s  hide" 
parody  the  hne  "0  tiger  s  heart  wrapt  in  a  woman's  hide," 
which  is  to  be  found  in  both  The  True  Tragedy  and  3 
Henry  VI  (h  iv.  137).  Some  critics  are  of  opinion  that 
Greene's  allusion  does  not  necessarily  imply  Shakespeare's 
authorship  of  the  passage  in  which  the  line  occurs ;  this 
view,  however,  seems  untenable,  judging  by  the  manner 
in  which  the  quotation  is  introduced.  Nevertheless  the 
passage  ma}^  perhaps  show  (i. )  that  Greene  himself  had 
some  share  in  The  Contention;  (ii.)  that  Marlowe  had  like- 
wise a  share  in  it ;  (iii.)  that  Greene  and  Shakespeare  could 
not  have  worked  together ;  and  ( iv. )  that  Marlowe  and 
Shakespeare  may  have  worked  together.  One  thing,  how- 
ever, it  conclusively  proves — viz.,  Shakespeare's  connec- 
tion with  these  plays  before  1592.  Furthermore,  in  De- 
cember of  the  same  year,  Chettle  apologized  for  the  publi- 
cation of  Greene's  attack  on  Shakespeare: — "Myselfe  have 
scene  his  demeanour  no  lesse  civill,  than  he  exelent  in  the 
qualitie  he  professes ;  besides,  divers  of  worship  have  re- 
ported his  uprightness  of  dealing,"  etc.^  It  is  not  likely 
that  the  subject  of  this  eulogy  could  have  been  a  notorious 
plagiarist ;  ^  if,  as  some  maintain,  no  line  in  the  Quartos 
can  justly  be  attributed  to  Shakespeare,  he  would  perhaps 
have  merited  Greene's  rancor.  But  "it  is  not  so,  and  it 
was  not  so,  and  God  foi'bid  that  it  should  be  so!" 

(III.)   In  1599  Shakespeare  concluded  his  Epilogue  to 
Henry  V  with  the  following  lines : — 

1  Chettle's  Kind  Heart's  Dream. 

2  One  does  not  deny  that  Greene  may  possibly  have  given  Shake- 
speare "the  groinid"  of  these  plays,  as  later  on  he  gave  him  the  stuff 
for  his  Winte)-'s  Tale.  "R.  B.  Gent."  has  the  following  significant 
verse  in  a  volume  entitled  Greene's  Funeralls  (preserved  in  the 
Bodleian  Library) : — 

"Greene  is  the  pleasing  object  of  an  eye; 

Greene  pleased  the  eyes  of  all  that  looked  upon  him; 
Greene  is  the  (/round  of  every  painter's  die; 

Greene  gave  the  ground  to  all  that  wrote  upon  him; 
Nay  more,  the  men  that  so  eclipst  his  fame. 
Purloined  his   plumes;   can    they    deny    the  same?" 

xvi 


KING   HKNRY    VI  Preface 

"Henry  llic  Sixtli,  in  infant  bands  crowned  King 
Of  France  and  England,  did  this  King  succeed; 
Whose  state  so  many  had  the  managing, 

That  they  lost  France  and  made  his  England  bleed: 
Which  oft  our  stage  hath  shown:  and,  for  their  sake, 
In  your  fair  minds  let  this  acceptance  take." 

From  these  words  we  may  infer  (i.)  that  1  Henry  VI  pre- 
ceded Henry  V;  (ii.)  that  probably  tlie  Second  and  Third 
Parts  of  Henry  VI  are  also  referred  to;  (iii.)  that  Shakes- 
peare claimed  in  some  degree  these  plays  as  his  own. 

(IV.)  Finally,  the  intimate  connection  of  ^,  '3  Henry 
VI  (and  The  Contention  and  The  True  Tragedie)  with  the 
play  of  Richard  III,  throws  valuable  light  on  the  date  of 
composition,  and  confirms  the  external  and  internal  evi- 
dence for  assigning  Shakespeare's  main  contributions  to 
these  plays  to  the  year  1591-2,  or  thereabouts  {Cp.  Pref- 
ace to  '' Richard  the  Third''). 

SOURCES    OF    THE    PLOT 

The  materials  for  1,  2,  3  Henry  VI  were  mainly  de- 
rived from  (i)  Holinshed's  Chronicles,  and  (ii.)  Hall's 
Chronicle;  the  account  of  the  civil  wars  in  the  former 
work  is  merely  an  abridgment  of  the  latter;  the  author's 
attention  would  therefore,  naturally,  be  directed  to  the 
chief  history  of  the  period  covered  by  the  plays  [cp.  title- 
page  of  the  first  edition,  1548: — "The  Union  of  the  two 
noble  and  illustre  Famclies  of  Lancastre  and  Yorke,  being 
long  in  continual  discension  for  the  croune  of  this  noble 
realme,  with  all  the  actes  done  in  bothe  the  tymes  of  the 
princes,  bothe  of  the  one  linage  and  of  the  other,  be- 
ginnyng  at  the  tyme  of  Kyng  Henry  the  fowerth,  the 
first '  Author  of  this  division,  and  so  successively  pro- 
ccadyng  to  the  reigne  of  the  high  and  prudent  Kyng 
Henry  the  eighth,  the  vndubitate  flower  and  very  heire  of 
both  the  sayd  linages"].^     Although  in  no  part  of  Henry 

1  Knight  points  out  an  excellent  instance  of  Hall's  influence,  as 
compared  with  Holinslied's;  in  the  latter's  narrative  of  the  interview 
between  Talbot  and  his  son,  before  they  both  fell  at  the  battle  of 

xvii 


Preface  KING  HENRY   VI 

VI  is  Holinshed's  Chronicles  followed  "with  that  par- 
ticularity which  we  have  in  Shakespeare's  later  historical 
plan's,"  it  is  noteworthy  that  it  is  the  primary  source  of 
Part  I.,  the  secondary  of  Parts  II.  and  III.  (On  the  his- 
torical aspect  of  the  plays,  cp.  Commentaries  on  the  His- 
torical Plays  of  Shakespeare,  Courtenay ;  Warner's  Eng- 
lish History  in  Shakespeare.) 

DURATION    OF    ACTION 

The  time  of  the  First  Part  is  eight  days,  v/ith  intervals ; 
the  Second  Part  covers  fourteen  days,  represented  on  the 
stage,  with  intervals  suggesting  a  period  in  all  of,  at  the 
outside,  a  couple  of  years ;  in  the  Third  Part  twenty  days 
are  represented;  the  whole  period  is  about  twelve  months. 

HISTOmC    TIME 

Part  I.  deals  with  the  period  from  "the  death  of  Henry  V, 
August  31,  1422,  to  the  treaty  of  marriage  between  Henry 
VI  and  Margaret,  end  of  1444."  Part  II.  covers  about  ten 
years,  from  April  22,  1445,  to  May  23,  1455.  Part  III. 
commences  "on  the  day  of  the  battle  of  St.  Albans,  May 
23,  1455,  and  ends  on  the  day  on  which  Henry  VI's  body 
was  exposed  in  St.  Paul's,  May  22,  1471.  Queen  Mar- 
garet, however,  was  not  ransomed  and  sent  to  France  till 
1475."  {Cp.  Daniel's  "Time  Analysis,"  New  Shah.  Soc, 
1877-79.) 

Chatillon,  we  have  no  dialogue,  but  simply,  "Many  words  he  used 
to  persuade  him  to  have  saved  his  life."  In  Hall  we  have  the  very- 
words  which  the  poet  has  paraphrased. 


XViU 


INTRODUCTIOX 

By  Henry  Norman  Hudson,  A.M. 

In  1593  Thomas  Nash  put  forth  a  pamphlet,  entitled 
Tierce  Penniless  his  Supplication  to  the  Devil,  in  which 
occurs  the  following:  "Nay,  what  if  I  prove  plays  to  be 
no  extreme,  but  a  rare  exercise  of  virtue?  First,  for  tlie 
subject  of  them:  for  the  most  part  it  is  borrowed  out 
of  our  English  Chronicles,  wherein  our  forefathers'  valiant 
acts,  that  have  been  long  buried  in  rusty  brass  and  worm- 
eaten  books,  are  revived,  and  they  themselves  raised  from 
the  grave  of  oblivion,  and  brought  to  plead  their  aged 
honors  in  open  presence ;  than  which  what  can  be  a  sharper 
reproof  to  these  degenerate  days  of  ours?  ...  In 
plays,  all  cosenages,  all  cunning  drifts,  over-gilded  with 
outward  holiness,  all  stratagems  of  war,  all  the  canker- 
worms  that  breed  in  the  rust  of  peace,  are  most  lively 
anatomized.  They  show  the  ill  success  of  treason,  the  fall 
of  hasty  climbers,  the  wretched  end  of  usurpers,  the  misery 
of  civil  dissensions,  and  how  just  God  is  evermore  in  pun- 
ishing murder.  And  to  prove  every  one  of  these  allega- 
tions could  I  propound  the  circumstances  of  this  play 
and  that,  if  I  meant  to  handle  this  theme  otherwise  than 

obiter." 

This  passage  yields  a  clear  inference  that  dramas 
founded  on  English  history  were  a  favorite  species  of 
entertainment  on  the  London  stage  in  1592;  and  in  the 
same  connection  Nash  speaks  of  them  as  being  resorted  to 
in  the  afternoon  by  "men  that  are  their  own  masters,  as 
gentlemen  of  the  court,  the  inns  of  court,  and  the  num- 
ber of  captains  and  soldiers  about  London."  Historical 
plays,  being  in  such  special  request,  would  naturally  lead 
Shk-1-11  3^ 


Introduction  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

off  in  whatsoever  of  dramatic  improvement  was  then  forth- 
coming; and  in  fact  the  earhest  growth  of  excellence 
appears  to  have  been  in  this  department.  For  in  this, 
as  in  other  things,  the  demand  would  needs  in  a  great 
measure  regulate  the  supply,  and  thus  cause  the  first  ad- 
vances to  be  made  in  the  line  where,  to  the  common  inter- 
est of  dramatic  representation  was  added  the  further 
charm  of  national  feeling  and  recollection,  and  where  a 
large  patriotism,  looking  before  and  after,  would  find  itself 
at  home.  Hence,  no  doubt,  the  early  and  rapid  growth 
in  England  of  the  historical  drama,  as  a  species  quite  dis- 
tinct from  the  old  forms  of  tragedy  and  comedy.  Nor,  in 
this  view  of  the  matter,  is  there  anything  incredible  in 
the  tradition  reported  by  Gildon,  that  Shakespeare,  in  a 
conversation  with  Ben  Jonson,  said  that,  "finding  the 
nation  generally  very  ignorant  of  history,  he  wrote  his  his- 
torical plays  in  order  to  instruct  the  people  in  that  par- 
ticular." That  he  cared  to  make  the  stage  a  place  of  in- 
struction as  well  as  of  pastime,  appears  in  his  Prologue  to 
Henry  VIII,  where  he  says, — "Such  as  give  their  money 
out  of  hope  they  may  believe,  may  here  find  truth 
too."  And  something  of  this  substantial  benefit,  it  seems, 
was  soon  realized;  for  in  Heywood's  Apology  for  Actors, 
1612,  we  are  told, — "Plays  have  made  the  ignorant  more 
apprehensive,  taught  the  unlearned  the  knowledge  of  many 
famous  histories,  instructed  such  as  cannot  read  in  the  dis- 
covery of  our  English  Chronicles." 

Of  the  historical  plays  referred  to  by  Nash  in  the  quota- 
tion with  which  we  began,  very  few  specimens  have  come 
down  to  us.  In  our  Introduction  to  the  First  Part  of 
Henry  IV  is  a  passage  quoted  from  the  same  pamphlet, 
showing  that  one  of  the  plays  he  had  in  mind  was  The 
Famous  Victories  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  which  is  known  to 
have  been  on  the  stage  as  early  as  1588,  because  the  lead- 
ing comic  part  was  sustained  by  Tarleton,  who  died  that 
year.  In  our  Introduction  to  King  John,  also,  we  see  that 
that  play  was  founded  on  an  older  one  entitled  The  Trou- 
blesome Reign  of  King  John,  which  was  printed  in  1591. 

XX 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

In  further  illustration  of  this  point,  we  have  another 
passage  in  Nash's  pamphlet:  "How  would  it  have  joyed 
brave  Talbot,  the  terror  of  the  French,  to  think  that  after 
he  had  lien  two  hundred  year  in  his  tomb  he  should  triumph 
again  on  the  stage ;  and  have  his  bones  new  embalmed 
with  the  tears  of  ten  thousand  spectators  at  least,  (at  sev- 
eral times,)  who,  in  the  tragedian  that  represents  his  per- 
son, behold  him  fresh  bleeding."  Which  evidently  refers 
to  The  First  Part  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  wherein  the  last 
scenes  of  Talbot  and  his  son  are  by  far  the  most  impressive 
and  memorable  passages,  and  are  fraught  with  a  pathos, 
which,  in  that  day  of  un jaded  and  fresh  sensibility,  could 
scarce  fail  to  produce  such  an  effect  as  is  here  ascribed 
to  them.  Inferior  as  that  play  is  to  many  that  followed 
it  in  the  same  line  and  from  the  same  pen,  no  English  his- 
torical drama  of  so  early  a  date  has  survived,  that  ap- 
proaches it,  either  as  a  work  of  art,  or  in  the  elements  of 
dramatic  effect.  To  audiences  that  were  wont  to  be  enter- 
tained by  such  frigid  and  artificial,  or  such  coarse  and 
vapid  performances  as  then  occupied  the  boards.  The  First 
Part  of  Henry  VI  must  have  been  irresistibly  attractive; 
a  play  which,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  gave  the  English 
people  "a  stage  ample  and  true  with  life,"  where,  instead 
of  learned  echoes  from  classical  antiquity,  their  ears  took 
in  the  clear  free  tones  of  nature,  and  where  swollen  verbiage 
and  strutting  extravagance  were  replaced  with  the  quiet 
power  of  simplicity,  and  with  thoughts  springing  up  fresh, 
home-born,  and  beautiful  from  the  soil  of  common  sense. 
That  such  was  indeed  the  case,  may  be  inferred  from  the 
words  of  Nash,  and  is  confinned  by  Henslowe's  Diary, 
which  ascertains  that  a  play  called  Henry  the  Sixth  was 
acted  by  "Lord  Strange's  men,"  jMarch  3,  1592,  and  was 
repeated  twelve  times  in  the  course  of  that  season.  As  this 
w^as  not  the  company  to  which  Shakespeare  belonged,  and 
in  which  he  held  a  respectable  place  as  joint  proprietor  in 
1589,  it  seems  but  reasonable  to  presume  that  the  play  had 
gone  through  a  course  of  representation  by  his  own  com- 
pany before  it  was  permitted  to  the  use  of  another;  un- 


XXI 


Introduction  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

less  we  suppose,  what  is  indeed  possible,  that  Henslowe's 
notes  refer  to  another  play  on  the  same  subject,  gotten 
up  perhaps  in  consequence  of  the  success  of  the  former  at 
a  rival  theater.  At  all  events,  the  words  of  Nash,  which 
could  scarce  point  to  any  other  than  Shakespeare's  Henry 
VI,  and  which  clearly  regard  it  as  being  already  well  known, 
fully  warrant  the  conclusion  that  the  play  was  written  as 
early  as  1589  or  1590. 

The  First  Part  of  Henry  VI  is  not  known  to  have  been 
printed  in  any  shape,  till  it  appeared  in  the  folio  of  1623, 
where  the  first  four  acts  are  regularly  marked,  as  are  also 
the  scenes  in  the  third  act,  but  at  the  beginning  of  the 
fifth  act  we  have  merely  Scena  Secunda,  and  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  last  scene  Actus  Quintus.  A  question  has 
been  raised,  whether  the  play  was  originally  written  as  it 
is  there  printed.  On  this  point  we  have  no  means  of  form- 
ing even  an  opinion,  other  than  such  probability  as  may 
accrue  from  the  fact  that  several  of  the  Poet's  earlier 
efforts  afterwards  underwent  revisal,  the  effects  of  which 
are  in  some  cases  quite  apparent  in  certain  inequalities 
of  style  and  execution,  some  parts  evincing  a  riper  faculty 
and  a  more  practiced  hand,  and  being  especially  charged 
with  those  peculiarities  which  all  men  have  agreed  to  call 
Shakespearian,  as  if  they  were  written  when  by  repeated 
trial  he  had  learned  to  trust  his  powers,  and  dared  to  be 
more  truly  himself.  The  play  in  hand,  however,  yields  lit- 
tle if  any  argument  that  way,  there  being  no  such  inequal- 
ities but  what  might  well  enough  result  from  the  ordinary 
differences  of  matter  and  of  mental  state ;  unless,  perhaps, 
something  may  be  gathered  from  such  incoherences  of  rep- 
resentation as  we  discover  in  Joan  of  Arc,  the  latter  end  of 
whose  character  does  not  very  well  remember  the  begin- 
ning. The  play,  in  short,  though  not  wanting  in  what 
distinguishes  Shakespeare  from  all  other  known  writers  of 
that  time,  has  little  of  that  which  sometimes  distinguishes 
Shakespeare  from  himself. 

The  authorship  of  King  Henry  VI  was  for  a  long  time 

unquestioned,  till  at  last  Theobald  started  a  doubt  thereof, 

xxii 


KING   HENRY   VI  introduction 

whicli,  nminly  through  the  dogged  industry  of  Malone,  has 
since  grown  into  a  general  disbelief.  This  conclusion,  and 
the  arguments  whereby  it  is  reached,  are  built  altogetiier 
on  internal  evidence,  and  proceed  for  the  most  part  upon 
a  strange  oversight  of  what  seems  plain  enough,  namelv, 
that  Shakespeare's  genius,  great  as  it  confessedly  was, 
must  needs  have  had  to  pass  a  time  in  youth  and  pupilage. 
The  main  points  in  Malone's  argument,  the  only  ones  in- 
deed of  any  real  weight,  are  the  following:  That  the  dic- 
tion and  versification  are  of  another  color  than  we  find  in 
Shakespeare's  genuine  dramas,  the  sense  almost  uniformly 
pausing  or  concluding  at  the  end  of  every  line,  and  the 
verse  scarce  ever  having  a  redundant  syllabic ;  and  that  the 
classical  allusions  are  more  frequent  than  in  any  one  of 
his  plays  on  English  history,  and  do  not  rise  naturally  out 
of  the  subject,  but  seem  inserted  to  show  the  writer's  learn- 
ing; the  play  thus  being  in  all  these  respects  more  like 
those  preceding  Shakespeare,  than  like  those  which  he  is 
known  to  have  written :  That  there  are  several  expressions 
which  prove  the  author  to  have  been  familiar  with  Hall's 
.Chronicles,  whereas  Holinshed  was  Shakespeare's  historian: 
That  in  Act  iii.  sc.  4,  the  king  is  made  to  say, — "When  I 
was  young,  (as  yet  I  am  not  old,)  /  do  remember  how  my 
father  said;  "  but  Shakespeare  knew  that  Henry  could 
not  remember  any  thing  of  his  father,  for  in  the  Second 
Part,  Act  iv.  sc.  9,  he  makes  him  say, — "But  I  was  made 
a  king  at  nine  months  old:"  again,  in  Act  ii.  sc.  5,  of  the 
play  in  hand,  the  earl  of  Cambridge  is  said  to  have  "levied 
an  anny"  against  his  sovereign ;  whereas  Shakespeare  in 
King  Henry  V  represents  the  matter  as  it  really  was. 

We  have  endeavored  to  give  INIalone's  reasons  with  all 
the  strength  of  statement  the}''  will  bear,  for,  in  truth,  they 
are  at  best  so  unequal  to  the  service  put  upon  them,  tliat 
one  may  well  be  loth  to  state  them  at  all,  lest  he  should 
seem  wanting  in  candor;  at  all  events,  to  understate  them 
would  be  more  apt  to  provoke  a  charge  of  unfairness,  than 
any  possible  overstatement  to  make  them  bear  out  the  con- 
clusion.    Nevertheless,  for  those  reasons,  or,  if  there  were 

xxiii 


Introduction  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

others,  the}^  have  not  been  given,  a  large  number  of  critics 
and  editors  have  rested  in  the  same  judgment,  among  whom 
are  found  such  respectable  names  as  Morgann,  Drake,  Sin- 
ger, and  Hallam.  IMorgann  speakes  of  the  play  as  "that 
drum-and-trumpet  thing, — written,  doubtless,  or  rather 
exhibited,  long  before  Shakespeare  was  born,  though  after- 
wards repaired  and  furbished  up  by  him  w^th  here  and 
there  a  little  sentiment  and  diction."  Hallam  says, — "In 
default  of  a  more  probable  claimant,  I  have  sometimes  been 
inclined  to  assign  The  First  Part  of  Henry  VI  to  Greene." 
And  Drake  proposed  that  the  play  should  be  excluded 
from  future  editions  of  the  Poet,  as  "offering  no  trace  of 
any  finishing  strokes  from  the  master-bard."  These  au- 
thorities, backed  up  as  they  are  by  a  host  of  concurring 
names,  must  be  our  excuse  for  stating,  in  the  Introduction 
to  The  T-u'o  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  that  "the  three  parts 
of  Henry  VI  were  adapted  from  preexisting  stock  copies, 
into  which  Shakespeare  distilled  something  of  the  life  and 
spirit  of  his  genius ;"  a  conclusion  which  cannot  well  sur- 
vive a  careful  sifting  of  the  arguments  whereon  it  has  been 
based. 

For,  in  the  first  place,  the  diction  and  versification  have 
not  the  qualities  specified  by  Malone  in  nearly  so  great  a 
degree  as  his  statement  would  lead  one  to  suppose.  In  va- 
riety of  pause  and  structure,  the  verse,  though  nowise  com- 
parable to  what  the  Poet  afterwards  wrote,  is  a  good  deal 
in  advance  of  any  preceding  dramas  that  have  come  down 
to  us  from  other  hands.  On  this  score,  the  play  may  be 
safely  affirmed  to  differ  much  less,  for  example,  from 
Shakespeare's  King  John  and  Richard  II,  than  these  do 
from  his  Henry  VIII;  or  than  A  Midsuvfimer-Nighfs 
Dream  and  The  Merchant  of  Venice  from  The  Tempest 
and  The  Winter's  Tale.  Yet  in  these  cases  of  course  no 
one  has  ever  thought  of  inferring  diversity  of  authorship 
from  difference  of  style.  Besides,  what  might  we  expect, 
but  that  in  these  respects  his  first  performances  would  be 
more   like   what   others   had   done   before,   than   what   was 

afterwards  done  by  himself?     Would  he  not  naturally  be- 

xxiv 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

gin  by  writing  very  much  as  those  about  him  wrote,  and 
thus  by  practice  gradually  learn  to  write  better?  Surely 
his  style  must  needs  draw  towards  such  models  as  were  be- 
fore him,  till  he  had  time  to  form  a  style  of  his  own ;  so 
that,  had  the  play  in  hand  borne  less  of  resemblance  to 
such  as  then  held  the  stage,  this  would  have  been  a  strong 
argument  that  it  was  not  the  work  of  a  beginner,  but  of 
one  who  had  attained  considerable  experience  and  j^ro- 
ficiency  in  his  art. — As  to  the  classical  allusions,  Malone 
here  brought  the  power  of  figures  to  bear,  and  found  there 
were  just  twent^^-two  in  the  play.  He  also  figured  out, 
that  of  something  more  than  six  thousand  lines  in  the  Sec- 
ond and  Third  Parts,  Shakespeare  was  the  sole  author  of 
somewhat  less  than  one-third;  and  he  took  the  pains  to 
mark  Shakespeare's  lines  with  asterisks  for  the  convenience 
of  all  future  readers  and  editors.  Knight's  Shakespeare 
has  a  very  learned  and  elaborate  essay,  wherein  Malone's 
argument  is  thoroughly  knocked  to  pieces,  showing,  among 
other  things,  that  in  the  lines  thus  painfully  marked  there 
are  no  less  than  eighteen  classical  allusions  and  quotations, 
and  those  not  a  whit  more  apt  and  natural  than  Malone's 
twenty-two.  Which  seems  to  finish  that  part  of  the  argu- 
ment. 

Again,  touching  the  Chronicles  used,  it  is  to  be  observed 
that  Holinshed's  were  first  published  in  1577,  when  Shake- 
speare was  in  his  fourteenth  year,  and  Hall's  about  thirty 
years  earlier;  and  it  is  quite  probable  that  the  Poet  be- 
came familiar  with  the  elder  chronicler  in  his  boyhood,  be- 
fore the  other  got  into  circulation.  ^Moreover,  Holinshed 
embodies  in  his  own  work  the  greater  part  of  Hall,  inso- 
much that,  on  most  of  the  subjects  handled  by  the  Poet, 
the  same  matter,  and  in  nearly  the  same  words,  is  found  in 
both  chroniclers,  thus  often  making  it  uncertain  to  which 
of  them  he  was  immediately  indebted.  Remains  but  to  add 
on  this  point,  that  Shakespeare's  unquestioned  dramas  fur- 
nish numerous  instances  of  acquaintance  with  Hall. 

Finally,  as  to  the  discrepancies  of  representation,  which 
Malone  cites  in  proof  of  his  point,  these  might  indeed  make 

XXV 


Introduction  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

somewhat  for  the  purpose,  but  that  similar  discrepancies 
are  not  unfrequently  to  be  met  with  in  the  Poet's  undoubted 
plava.  For  example,  in  this  very  play.  Act  i.  sc.  3,  Glos- 
ter  says  to  Beaufort, — "I'll  canvass  thee  in  thy  broad  car- 
dinal's hat;"  and  the  Mayor  a  little  after, — "This  cardi- 
nal's more  haughty  than  the  devil:"  yet  in  Act  v.  sc.  1, 
Exeter  exclaims, — "VvHiat !  is  my  lord  of  Winchester  in- 
stall'd,  and  call'd  unto  a  cardinal's  degree?"  as  if  that 
were  the  first  notice  he  had  of  his  brother's  advancement. 
Does  this  infer  that  the  first  and  fifth  acts  of  this  play 
were  written  by  several  hands?  Another  still  more  ma- 
terial discrepancy  is  adduced  by  Knight.  It  occurs  in  The 
Second  Part  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  Act  iii.  sc.  1,  where  the 
following  is  put  into  the  mouth  of  Bolingbroke: 

"But  which  of  you  vsas  by, 
(You,  cousin  Neville,  as  I  may  remember,) 
When  Richard,  with  his  eye  brirafull  of  tears, 
Then  check'd  and  rated  by  Northumberland, 
Did  speak  these  v.'ords,  now  prov'd  a  prophecy? 
'Northumberland,  thou  ladder,  by  the  which 
My  cousin  Bolingbroke  ascends  my  throne;' — 
Though  then,  God  knows,  I  had  no  such  intent." 

This  refers  to  what  took  place  in  King  Richard  11,  Act  v. 
sc.  1,  which  was  some  time  after  the  same  Bolingbroke  had 
said  to  the  parliament, — "In  God's  name  I'll  ascend  the 
regal  throne."  It  is  hardly  needful  to  add,  that  on  the 
principle  of  Malone's  reasoning  the  two  plays  in  question 
could  not  have  been  by  the  same  author.  Several  other  in- 
accuracies of  this  kind  are  remarked  in  our  notes,  and  in- 
deed occur  too  often  in  these  plays  to  prove  any  thing  but 
that  either  the  Poet  or  his  characters  sometimes  made  mis- 
takes. 

Thus  it  appears  that  upon  examination  Malone's  argu- 
ment really  comes  to  nothing.  But  even  if  it  were  at  all 
points  sound,  stDl  it  has  not  force  enough  to  shake,  much 
less  to  overthrow,  the  evidence  on  the  other  side.  Of  this 
evidence  the  leading  particulars  are  thus  stated  by  Mr. 
Collier :     "When  Heminge  and  Condell  published  the  folio 


XXVI 


KING   HENRY   VI  introduction 

of  1623,  many  of  Shakespeare's  contemporaries,  authors, 
actors,  and  auditors,  were  aHve ;  and  the  player-editors, 
if  they  would  have  been  guilty  of  the  dishonesty,  would 
hardly  have  committed  the  folly,  of  inserting  a  play  in 
their  volume  which  was  not  his  production.  If  we  imagine 
the  frequenters  of  theaters  to  have  been  comparatively  ig- 
norant upon  such  a  point,  living  authors  and  living  actors 
must  have  been  aware  of  the  truth ;  and  in  the  face  of  these 
Hcminge  and  Condell  would  not  have  ventured  to  appro- 
priate to  Shakespeare  what  had  really  come  from  the  pen 
of  another.  That  tricks  of  the  kind  were  sometimes  played 
by  fraudulent  booksellers,  in  single  plays,  is  certainly  true; 
but  Heminge  and  Condell  were  actors  of  repute,  and  men 
of  character:  they  were  presenting  to  the  world,  in  an  im- 
portant volume,  scattered  performances,  in  order  to  "keep 
the  memory  of  so  worthy  a  friend  and  fellow  alive,  as  was 
our  Shakespeare ;"  and  we  cannot  believe  they  would  have 
included  any  drama  to  which  he  had  no  title."  It  is 
further  considerable,  that  Ben  Jonson  lent  to  their  volume 
the  sanction  of  his  great  name ; — a  man  whose  long  inti- 
macy with  the  Poet  gave  him  every  chance  to  know  the 
truth,  and  whose  unquestionable  honesty  forbids  the 
thought  of  his  having  endorsed  any  thing  savoring  of 
fraud. 

Furthermore,  we  have  words  from  Shakespeare  himself 
which  can  scarce  be  interpreted  otherwise  than  as  claiming 
The  First  Part  of  Hcnrii  VI  for  his  own.  Which  words 
occur  in  the  Epilogue  to  Henry  V : 

"Henry  the  Sixth,  in  infant  bands  crown'd  king 
Of  France  and   England,  did  this  king  succeed; 
Whose  state  so  many  had  the  managing, 
That  they  lost  France,  and  made  his  England  bleed: 
Which  oft  our  stage  hath  shown;  and  for  their  sake, 
In  your  fair  minds  let  this  acceptance  take." 

The  sense  of  which  manifestly  is,  that  "the  events  whereby 
France  was  lost  have  been  often  set  forth  in  plays  of  our 
writing ;"  it  being  rather  unlikely  that  the  Poet  would  thus 

XXV  ii 


Introduction  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

beg  a  favorable  reception  for  his  play,  because  a  play  writ- 
ten by  somebody  else,  and  on  another  subject,  had  formerly 
been  well  received. 

Besides  this  strong  external  evidence,  concurrent  there- 
with is  internal  evidence  more  than  enough  to  counterpoise 
Malone's  argument.  This,  to  be  sure,  is  not  of  a  kind 
to  be  discovered  by  mere  verbal  criticism,  but  few,  it  is  to 
be  presumed,  will  think  the  less  of  it  on  that  account.  Sev- 
eral parts  of  the  play  evidently  look  to  a  continuation,  and 
are  strangely  out  of  place  and  unmeaning,  but  that  they 
are  to  reappear  in  their  after  results.  Such,  especially, 
are  the  fourth  scene  of  Act  ii.,  where  in  the  Temple  Garden 
the  two  factions  assume  the  M'hite  rose  and  the  red  as 
their  respective  badges ;  the  interview  of  Mortimer  and 
Richard  in  the  next  scene ;  the  quarrel  of  Vernon  and  Bas- 
set in  Act  iv.  sc.  1 ;  and,  above  all,  the  undertaking  of  a 
marriage  between  Henry  and  Margaret  in  the  last  scene  of 
the  pla3^  These  scenes,  be  it  observed,  more  than  any  oth- 
ers in  the  play,  are  of  the  author's  invention ;  which  puts  it 
quite  out  of  reason  that  they  should  have  been  meant  to 
end  with  themselves:  unless  designed  and  regarded  as  the 
beginnings  of  something  yet  to  come,  they  are  manifest 
impertinences,  having  nothing  to  do  with  the  action  of  the 
play,  viewed  by  itself.  Of  course  the  promises  thus  made 
are  fulfilled  in  the  plays  immediately  following.  Here, 
then,  we  have  the  lines  of  an  intrinsic  connection  between 
the  several  plays  of  the  series,  running  them  all  together  as 
parts  of  a  larger  whole.  In  short,  the  First  Part  is  strictly 
continuous  with  the  Second  and  Third,  as  these  in  turn 
are  with  King  Richard  III;  an  unbroken  harmony  and 
integrity  not  only  of  design  and  action,  but  of  composition 
and  characterization,  pervading  the  four  plays,  and  knit- 
ting together  in  the  unity  of  individual  authorship. 

This  matter  will  be  unfolded  more  at  length  in  our  Intro- 
ductions to  the  Second  and  Third  Parts,  where  we  shall 
hope  to  make  appear  how  each  preceding  play  of  the  series 
runs  into  the  following,  while,  in  turn,  the  latter  in  like 

manner  carries  out  and  completes  tfie  former.     For  the 

xxviii 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

present,  then,  it  shall  suffice  to  state  by  way  of  instance  in 
point,  that  in  the  character  of  the  king  we  have  the  same 
conception  carried  out  in  most  orderly  and  consistent  de- 
velopment through  the  three  plays  that  bear  his  name. 
Than  which,  perhaps  nothing  could  more  clearly  show  how 
wide  Malone  is  of  the  truth  in  assuming,  as  he  all  along 
does  assume,  that  the  Second  and  Third  Parts  were  not 
written,  either  in  their  original  or  their  amended  form,  by 
the  same  man  who  wrote  the  First.  In  justice,  however, 
to  Malonc's  understanding,  it  should  be  added,  that  he  him- 
self saw,  what  he  had  been  blind  indeed  not  to  see,  that 
the  three  plays  are  drawn  in  together  as  one  continuous 
whole.  Speaking  of  the  First  Part,  he  says, — "At  this 
distance  of  time  it  is  impossible  to  ascertain  on  what  prin- 
ciple Hemingo  and  Condell  admitted  it  into  their  volume; 
but  I  suspect  they  gave  it  a  place  as  a  necessary  introduc- 
tion to  the  two  other  parts,  and  because  Shakespeare  had 
made  some  slight  alterations,  and  written  a  few  lines  in  it." 
How  unlikely  it  is  that  Shakespeare  should  at  any  thne 
of  his  life  have  written  a  play  and  left  it  in  such  a  state,  as 
that  a  pla}'  by  some  other  man  should  form  a  necessary  in- 
troductian  to  it,  is  more  obvious  than  to  need  insisting 
upon.  Yet  this,  strongly  as  it  infers  the  point  in  question, 
is  but  half  the  argument;  for  it  may  be  safely  affirmed 
that  the  First  Part  is  not  more  necessary  as  an  introduc- 
tion to  the  Second  and  Third,  than  these  latter  are  as  a 
supplement  and  continuation  of  the  First.  We  scarce 
know  which  were  harder  of  belief,  that  Shakespeare  should 
have  so  fitly  carried  out  another's  design,  or  that  another 
should  have  designed  so  aptly  for  Shakespeare's  carrying- 
out. 

Two  other  points  there  are  that  seem  to  require  a  passing 
notice ;  one  of  which  is,  the  frequent  performance,  as  re- 
marked above,  of  a  play  called  Henry  the  Sixth,  by  Lord 
Strange's  men  at  the  Rose,  in  1592; — an  establishment 
with  which  Shakespeare  never  had  any  connection.  This 
is  conjectured  to  be  the  play  referred  to  by  Nash  in  a 
passage   already    quoted,    and    which   has    come   down   to 


XXIX 


Introduction  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

US  as  Shakespeare's,  though  written  by  somebody  else. 
The  argument  of  course  supposes  that  a  manuscript  play 
belonging  to  one  company  was  not  likely  to  be  had  for  use 
at  a  rival  theater.  Yet,  as  we  have  seen,  JMalone  thinks 
that  "Shakespeare  had  made  some  slight  alterations,  and 
written  a  few  lines  in  it ;"  Morgann,  that  it  was  "repaired 
and  furbished  up  by  him  with  here  and  there  a  little  senti- 
ment and  diction."  Now  it  does  not  well  appear,  but  that 
one  of  Sliakespeare's  manuscripts  may  have  got  into  the 
hands  of  Lord  Strange's  men,  as  easily  as  one  of  theirs  into 
his ;  and  he  must  have  got  hold  of  it  before  he  repaired  it. 
Besides,  it  is  clear  that  at  that  time  the  same  play,  though 
yet  unprinted,  was  sometimes  acted  by  different  companies ; 
for  in  the  title-page  to  the  first  edition  of  Titus  Andronicus 
x<e  have  the  words, — "As  it  hath  sundry  times  been  played 
by  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  the  Earl 
of  Derby,  the  Earl  of  Sussex,  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain 
their  Servants."  Mr.  Collier  observes,  accordingly, — "It 
is  probable  that  prior  to  the  year  1592  or  1593  the  copy- 
right of  plays  was  little  recognized ;  and  that  various  com- 
panies were  performing  the  same  dramas  at  the  same  time, 
although  perhaps  they  had  been  bought  by  one  company 
for  its  sole  use." 

Again ;  Coleridge,  as  may  be  seen  by  a  note  on  the 
passage,  delivers  a  most  confident  opinion  that  the  first 
speech  in  the  play  could  not  have  been  written  by  Shake- 
speare ;  though  Mr.  Collier  informs  us  that  in  his  Lectures 
in  1815  he  quoted  many  lines  which  he  thought  Shakespeare 
must  have  written.  Now  our  ear  does  indeed  tell  us  that 
the  metre  of  the  passage  in  question  is  not  Shakespearian ; 
but  this  is  a  very  different  thing  from  telling  us  that 
Shakespeare  could  not  have  written  it.  The  truth  is, 
Shakespeare  has  many  passages  which  seem  to  us  very  un- 
Shakespearian ;  and,  as  might  be  expected,  both  the  quan- 
tity and  the  degree  of  such  are  in  proportion  as  he  was 
unpractised  in  his  art.  How  far  unlike  himself  he  may 
have  written  at  first,  when,  as  must  needs  have  been  the  case, 
he  followed  rather  the  style  in  vogue  than  the  bent  of  his 

XXX 


KING   HENRY   VI  introduction 

genius,  our  ear,  we  freely  confess,  is  incompetent  to  de- 
cide. Surely  it  was  most  natural  that  in  his  first  efforts 
Shakespeare  should  endeavor  to  surpass  his  contemporaries 
in  their  own  style;  and,  for  aught  we  know,  he  may  have 
had  as  great  facility  of  imitation  as  Burke,  who,  it  is  well 
known,  wrote  a  pamphlet  so  much  in  the  style  of  Lord 
Bolingbroke,  that  Bolingbroke  himself  might  almost  have 
mistaken  it  for  his  own.  Perhaps  no  one,  judging  by  the 
ear  alone,  or  from  the  internal  evidence  merely,  would  ever 
believe  that  Burke's  Essay  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful 
was  written  by  the  same  man  as  Burke's  Reflections  on  the 
llevolution  in  France. 

These  considerations,  and  such  as  these,  growing  out  of 
a  larger  criticism  than  that  used  by  INIalone,  have  prevailed 
with  many  to  withhold  them  from  the  more  general  opinion. 
To  say  nothing  of  Stcevcns,  who  in  these  matters  com- 
monly shaped  his  course  wnth  a  view  to  cross  ISIalone,  the 
better  discernment  of  Johnson,  Hazlitt,  Knight,  Verplanck, 
and  of  the  Gennan  critics,  Schlegel,  Tieck,  and  Ulrici,  has 
held  them  fast  to  the  old  belief. 

It  must  be  owned,  indeed,  that  The  First  Part  of  Henry 
VI,  granting  it  to  be  Shakespeare's,  can  add  nothing  to 
his  reputation.  But  it  may  throw  not  a  little  light  on  his 
mental  history,  showing,  along  with  several  other  plays, 
that  his  hand  waxed  cunning  and  mighty  by  long  labor  and 
discipline;  that  in  forming  him  for  the  office  of  universal 
teacher  art  had  perhaps  as  great  a  siiare  as  nature;  and 
that  Ben  Jonson  knew  what  he  was  about,  when  saying 
with  reference  to  him, — "For  a  good  poet's  made,  as  well 
as  born."  Moreover,  the  play  yields  acceptable  testimony 
that  Shakespeare,  following  the  fashion  of  his  time,  had 
at  first  an  excess  of  classical  allusion ;  that  even  his  genius 
was  not  in  the  outset  proof  against  the  then  besetting  vice 
of  leanied  pedantrj' ;  thus  guiding  us  to  the  reasonable  con- 
clusion, that  his  later  freedom  from  such  excess  and  pedan- 
try was  the  result  of  judgment,  not  of  ignorance.  Ma- 
lone  took  credit  to  himself,  that  he  had  vindicated  Shake- 
speare from  the  reproach  of  having  written   so   poor  a 


XXXl 


Introduction  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

performance;  not  perceiving,  apparently,  that  such  a 
course  as  he  pursued  must  needs  disserve  the  virtue  of  the 
man  a  great  deal  faster  than  it  could  serve  the  genius  of 
the  poet.  It  will  be  better  seen  hereafter,  that  he  did  in 
fact  but  vindicate  him  into  the  reproach  of  having  been  the 
most  impudent  literary  thief  that  ever  went  "unwhipp'd  of 
justice." 

The  Poet's  more  material  drawings  from  history  In  this 
play  will  be  set  forth  from  time  to  time  In  the  form  of 
notes.     It  will  be  observed  that  he  took  much  greater  free- 
dom than  usual  with  the  actual  order  of  events,  marshalling 
them  here  and  there  upon  no  settled  principle,  or  upon  one 
which  it  is  not  easy  to  discover.     The  play  extends  over 
the  whole  period  from  the  death  of  Henry  V,  in  August, 
1422,  when  his  son  was  but  nine  months  old,  till  the  mar- 
riage of  the  latter  with  Margaret  of  Anjou,  which  took 
place  in  October,  1444.     In  some  cases  the  scattered  events 
of  several  years  are  drawn  together  and  presented  in  one 
view,  as  in  the  first  scene,  where  we  have  the  angry  rup- 
ture of  Gloster  and  Beaufort  occurring  at  the  same  time 
with  the  funeral  of  Henry  V,  and  reports  coming  in  of 
losses  In  France,  some  of  which  did  not  take  place  till  after 
the  events  represented  in  several  of  the  subsequent  scenes. 
In  like  manner,  in  the  early  part  of  the  play  the  king  is 
made  much  older,  and  in  the  latter  part  much  younger, 
than  he  really  was ;  the  effect  of  which,  as  it  was  probably 
meant  to  be,  is,  to  give  an  impression   of  greater  unity 
than  were  compatible  with  a  more  literal  adherence  to  facts. 
So,  again,  the  death  of  the  Talbots  is  drawn  back  many 
years  before  the  time  of  its  actual  occurrence,  in  order,  as 
would  seem,  that  the  foreign  wars,  and  the  disasters  attend- 
ing them,  may  be  despatched  in  the  First  Part,  and  thus 
leave  the  following  parts  free  for  a  more  undistracted  rep- 
resentation of  the  civil  wars.     And  there  are  many  other 
similar  misplacements  of  events,  which  are  more  fully  no- 
ticed as  they  occur. 

Upon  the  whole,  the  leading  purpose  of  the  drama,  con- 
sidered by  itself,  appears  to  l)e,  to  set  forth  the  growth  of 


XXXll 


KING  HENRY  VI  Introduction 

faction  in  England,  the  gradual  crippling  of  the  national 
energies  thence  resulting,  and  the  consequent  loss  of  the 
conquests  in  France ;  how  domestic  strife  still  propagated 
mischiefs  abroad,  while  these  mischiefs  in  turn  envenomed 
that  strife;  and  how  this  long  train  of  evils  started  into 
action  as  soon  as  the  heroic  spirit  was  withdrawn,  in  whom 
all  the  powers  of  the  nation  had  stood  and  worked  smoothly 
together,  sweeping  every  thing  before  them.  Such  being 
the  scope  of  the  play,  so  far  as  that  scope  ends  with  the 
play  itself,  we  may  not  unfitly  apply  to  it  one  of  Cole- 
ridge's most  comprehensive  passages.  Discoursing  how 
"a  drama  may  be  properly  historical,"  he  says, — "The 
events  themselves  are  immaterial,  otherwise  than  as  the 
clothing  and  manifestation  of  the  spirit  that  is  working 
within.  In  this  mode,  the  unity  resulting  from  succession 
is  destroyed,  but  is  supplied  b}^  an  unity  of  a  higher  order, 
which  connects  the  events  by  reference  to  the  workers,  gives 
a  reason  for  them  in  the  motives,  and  presents  men  in  their 
causative  character." 

In  comparison,  however,  of  the  Poet's  other  histories,  it 
must  be  confessed  that  the  arrangement  of  this  play  is 
inartificial  and  clumsy,  the  characterization  loose  and 
sketchy,  and  the  action  inconsequential ;  there  being  many 
changes  of  scene  which  involve  no  real  progress,  and  often 
no  reason  appearing  in  the  thing  itself  but  that  the  order 
might  just  as  well  have  been  quite  other  than  it  is:  all 
which,  to  be  sure,  is  but  an  argument  that  the  author  had 
not  then  acquired  the  power  of  moulding  the  stiff  materials 
of  history  to  the  laws  of  art  and  the  conditions  of  dramatic 
effect.  Yet,  though,  as  a  whole,  the  piece  be  somewhat 
rambling  and  unknit,  several  of  the  parts  are  replete  with 
poetic  animation,  many  of  the  characters  are  firmly  out- 
lined, and  in  some  of  them,  especially  Beaufort  and  Talbot, 
the  coloring  is  strong  and  well-laid ;  though,  perhaps,  in  re- 
gard to  the  former,  the  conception  has  more  of  dramatic 
vigor  than  of  historic  truth. 

In  the  character  of  the  heroic  maiden  we  seem  to  have 
an  apt  instance  of  struggle  between  the  genius  of  the  poet 


XXXUl 


Introduction  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

and  the  prejudices  of  the  Englishman.  For  it  is  observ- 
able that  many  of  the  noblest  thoughts  and  images  in  the 
drama  come  from  her ;  and  in  her  interview  with  Burgundy 
the  Poet  could  scarce  have  put  into  her  mouth  a  higher 
strain  of  patriotic  eloquence,  had  she  been  regarded  as  the 
patron  saint  of  his  father-land.  But  to  have  represented 
her  throughout  as  a  heaven-sent  deliverer,  besides  being 
repugnant  to  the  hereditary  sentiment  of  the  author,  had 
been  sure  to  offend  the  prepossessions  of  his  audience.  It 
is  to  this  cause,  probably,  that  we  should  attribute  whatso- 
ever of  discrepancy  there  may  be  in  the  representation. 
All  that  is  pure  and  beautiful  in  her  life  as  depicted  in  the 
play  resulted,  no  doubt,  from  the  Poet's  universality  of 
mind  and  heart  overbearing  for  a  time  the  strong  natural, 
and,  we  may  add,  honorable  current  of  national  feeling. 
Nor  should  it  be  unremembered  that  herein  Shakespeare's 
course  was  against  the  whole  drift  of  the  Chronicles;  for 
the  account  they  give  of  her  is  indeed  consistent,  but  then 
it  is  consistently  bad.  How  the  catastrophe  of  her  career 
in  the  drama  may  have  affected  a  contemporary  English 
audience,  we  of  course  have  no  means  of  knowing:  but  to 
us  her  behavior  thereabouts  seems  nowise  of  her  character, 
but  rather  a  piece  of,  perhaps  justifiable,  hypocrisy,  taken 
up  as  a  sort  of  forlorn  hope,  and  so  forming  no  part  of 
herself;  the  impression  of  her  foregoing  life  thus  triumph- 
ing over  the  seeming  sacrifice  of  honor  and  virtue  at  its 
close.  What  a  subject  she  would  have  been  for  Shake- 
speare's hand,  could  he  have  done,  what  no  good  man  has 
been  able  to  do,  namely,  viewed  her  in  the  pure  light  of  uni- 
versal humanity,  free  from  the  colorings  and  refractings 
of  national  prepossession ! 

Amidst  the  general  comparative  tameness  of  the  drama 
in  hand,  several  scenes  and  parts  of  scenes  may  be  specified 
as  holding  out  something  more  than  a  promise  of  Shake- 
speare's ripened  power.  Such  are  the  maiden's  descrip- 
tion of  herself  in  Act  i.  sc.  2,  beginning, — "Dauphin,  I 
am  by  birth  a  shepherd's  daughter;" — and  Talbot's  ac- 
count of  his  entertainment  by  the  French  while  their  pris- 

xxxiv 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

oner,  in  sc.  4  of  the  same  Act,  where  the  story  reUshes  at 
every  turn  of  the  teller's  character,  and  the  words  seem 
thoroughly  steeped  in  his  individuality.  Not  less  admir- 
able, perhaps,  in  its  way,  is  the  pungent  and  pithy  dia- 
logue between  Winchester  and  Gloster,  Warwick,  and 
Somerset,  at  the  opening  of  Act  iii.,  where  the  words  strike 
fire  all  round,  and  where  the  persons,  because  they  dare  not 
speak,  tliercfore  out  of  their  pent-up  wrath  speak  all  the 
more  spitefully.  Again,  of  w'hole  scenes,  the  third  in  Act 
ii.,  between  old  Talbot  and  the  countess  of  Auvergne,  is 
in  the  conception  and  the  execuLion  a  genuine  stroke  of 
Shakespearian  art,  full  of  dramatic  spirit,  and  making  a 
strong  point  of  stage-effect  in  the  most  justifiable  sense. 
And  in  the  Temple  Garden  scene,  which  is  the  fourth  of  the 
same  Act,  we  have  a  concentration  of  true  dramatic  life 
issuing  in  a  scries  of  forcible  and  characteristic  flashes, 
where  every  word  tells  with  singular  effect  both  as  a  de- 
velopment of  present  temper  and  a  germ  of  many  tragic 
events.  And,  on  the  higher  principles  of  art,  how  fitting 
it  was  that  this  outburst  of  smothered  rage,  this  distant 
ominous  grumbling  of  the  tempest,  should  be  followed  by 
the  subdued  and  plaintive  tones  that  issue  from  the  prison 
of  the  aged  Mortimer,  where  we  have  the  very  spring  and 
cause  of  the  gathering  storm  discoursed  in  a  strain  of 
melancholy  music,  and  a  vii-tual  sermon  of  revenge  and 
slaughter  breathed  from  dying  lips.  And  of  the  fifth, 
sixth,  and  seventh  scenes  in  Act  iv.,  also,  we  may  well  say 
with  Dr.  Johnson,  "If  we  take  these  scenes  from  Shake- 
speare, to  whom  shall  they  be  given?" 

The  chief  merits  of  the  play  are  w^ell  stated,  though 
doubtless  with  some  exaggeration,  by  Schlegel,  the  judi- 
ciousness of  whose  criticisms  in  the  main  hath  been  so 
often  approved,  that  no  apology  seems  needed  for  quoting 
him.  "Shakespeare's  choice,"  sa^'s  he,  "fell  first  on  this 
period  of  English  history,  so  full  of  misery  and  horrors  of 
every  kind,  because  to  a  young  poet's  mind  the  pathetic  is 
naturally  more  suitable  than  the  characteristic.  We  do 
not  here  find  the  whole  maturity  of  his  genius,  yet  certainly 


xx.w 


Introduction  KING   HENRY   VI 

its  whole  strength.  Careless  as  to  the  seeming  uncon- 
nectedness  of  contemporary  events,  he  bestows  little  atten- 
tion on  preparation  and  development :  all  the  figures  follow 
in  rapid  succession,  and  announce  themselves  emphatically 
for  what  we  ought  to  take  them.  The  First  Part  contains 
but  the  forming  of  the  parties  of  the  White  and  Red  Rose, 
under  which  blooming  ensigns  such  blood}^  deeds  were 
afterwards  perpetrated ;  the  varying  results  of  the  war  in 
France  principally  fill  the  stage.  The  wonderful  savior  of 
her  countr}',  Joan  of  Arc,  is  portrayed  by  Shakespeare 
with  an  Englishman's  prejudice:  yet  he  at  first  leaves  it 
doubtful  whether  she  has  not  in  reality  an  heavenly  mis- 
sion ;  she  appears  in  the  pure  glory  of  virgin  heroism ;  by 
her  supernatural  eloquence — and  this  circumstance  is  of 
the  Poet's  invention — she  wins  over  the  duke  of  Burgundy 
to  the  French  cause ;  afterwards,  corrupted  by  vanity  and 
luxury,  she  has  recourse  to  hellish  fiends,  and  comes  to  a 
miserable  end.  To  her  is  opposed  Talbot,  a  rough  iron 
warrior,  who  moves  us  the  more  powerfully,  as,  in  the  mo- 
ment when  he  is  threatened  with  inevitable  death,  all  his  care 
is  tenderly  directed  to  save  his  son,  who  performs  his  first 
deeds  of  arms  under  his  eye.  The  interview  between  the 
aged  Mortimer  in  prison,  and  Richard  Plantagenet,  un- 
folds the  claims  of  the  latter  to  the  throne,  and  forms,  by 
itself,  a  beautiful  tragic  elegy." 


XX3CV1 


COMMENTS 

By  Shakespearean  Scholars 

HENRY  VI 

The  heroic  days  of  the  fifth  Henry,  when  the  play  opens, 
belong  to  the  past;  but  their  memory  survives  in  the  hearts 
and  in  the  vigorous  muscles  of  the  great  lords  and  earls 
who  surround  the  king.  He  only,  who  most  should  have 
treasured  and  augmented  his  inheritance  of  glory  and  of 
power,  is  insensible  to  the  large  responsibilities  and  priv- 
ileges of  his  place.  He  is  cold  in  great  affairs;  his  su- 
preme concern  is  to  remain  blameless.  Free  from  all 
greeds  and  ambitions,  he  yet  is  possessed  by  egoism,  the 
egoism  of  timid  saintliness.  His  virtue  is  negative,  be- 
cause there  is  no  vigorous  basis  of  manhood  within  him  out 
of  which  heroic  saintliness  might  develop  itself.  For  fear 
of  what  is  wrong,  he  shrinks  from  what  is  right.  This  is 
not  the  virtue  ascribed  to  the  nearest  followers  of  "the 
Faithful  and  True"  who  in  his  righteousness  doth  judge 
and  make  war.  Henry  is  passive  in  the  presence  of  evil, 
and  weeps.  He  would  keep  his  garments  clean;  but  the 
garments  of  God's  soldier-saints,  who  do  not  fear  the  soils 
of  struggle,  gleam  with  a  higher,  intenser  purity.  "His 
eyes  were  as  a  flame  of  fire,  and  on  his  head  were  many 
crowns;  .  .  .  And  the  armies  which  were  in  heaven 
followed  him  upon  white  horses,  clothed  in  fine  linen,  white 
and  clean."  These  soldiers  in  heaven  have  their  repre- 
sentatives in  earth ;  and  Henry  was  not  one  of  these.  Zeal 
must  come  before  charity,  and  then  when  charity  comes  it 
will  appear  as  a  self-denial.  But  Henry  knows  nothing  of 
zeal;  and  he  is  amiable,  not  charitable. — Dowden,  Shak- 

spere — His  Mind  and  Art. 

xxxvii 


Comments  THE   FIRST   PART   OF. 


JOAN  OF  ARC 

Only  in  one  case  does  Shakespeare — according  to  our 
modern  ideas — seem  to  have  gone  too  far  and  to  have  been 
unjust,  viz.,  in  his  delineation  of  Joan  of  Arc's  charac- 
ter ;  but  in  this  he  has  closely  followed  his  authority, 
whether  we  assume  it  to  have  been  Hall  or  Holinshed.  La 
Pucelle's  character  was,  up  to  the  seventeenth  century,  a 
closed  book  even  to  her  own  countrymen,  and  has  only  in 
recent  days  by  documentary  evidence  been  revealed  to  us 
in  its  full  purity  and  beauty.  But  even  though  this  want 
of  a  correct  knowledge  of  the  case  were  not  an  unquestion- 
able excuse  for  the  poet,  still  his  error  vanishes,  and  ap- 
pears as  nothing,  when  compared  with  the  filth  which  Vol- 
taire— her  own  countryman — has  cast  upon  the  character 
of  La  Pucelle.  And  even  though  Voltaire's  wit  were  a 
hundred  times  more  poignant,  it  would  never  clear  him  of 
this  wrong. — Elze,  William  Shakespeare. 

Taking  the  character  [of  Joan  la  Pucelle]  as  it  stands, 
— the  embodiment  of  motives  and  disposition  in  harmony 
with  deeds  tha.t  the  chroniclers  assert  as  facts,  it  is  hard 
to  say  that  it  is  other  than  consistent  and  natural.  The 
world  is  now  in  possession  of  numerous  detailed  examples  of 
religious  enthusiasm  and  self-deception  combining  with  am- 
bitious or  political  purpose  in  all  their  strange  and  ming- 
ling manifestations  both  of  the  mind  and  body,  and  if  we 
scrutinize  the  most  fortunate  of  them  the  result  is  much  the 
same  as  the  catastrophe  of  Joan  even  as  represented  in  the 
play.  The  false  impressions  and  assumptions  that  inflame 
the  enthusiast  work  wonders  in  their  strength,  but  their 
weakness  tells  at  last.  The  self-conviction  of  the  special 
choice  and  guidance  and  inspiration  of  heaven  suffers  rude 
shocks  in  an  extended  course,  as  rude  as  the  blindest  fatal- 
ism that  hardens  its  purposes  by  repetition  of  the  phrase 
of  a  destiny,  a  mission  or  a  star.     Rarely  indeed  does  the 

vainly  exalted  thought  of  special  heavenly  protection  es- 

xxxviii 


KING   HENRY   VI  Comments 

cape  reversal  by  as  depressing  a  belief  of  desertion  and  for- 
sakenness, and  a  life  of  heroism  may  easily  close  in  vacilla- 
tion, or  despair,  or  degrading  attempt  to  keep  up  by  foul 
means,  or  trickery,  the  influence  that  only  worked  won- 
ders, and  was  victorious  when  it  sprung  spontaneously. 
Still  the  dramatist  has  been  more  tender  to  Joan  in  one 
respect  than  the  historians,  and  he  rejects  the  fact  they 
charge  her  with,  of  shamefully  slaughtering,  out  of  spite 
and  in  cold  blood,  her  surrendered  prisoner. — Lloyd, 
^'Critical  Essays  on  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare" 

We  have  yet  to  consider  the  Joan  of  Arc  scenes,  espec- 
ially V.  iv. ;  here  we  are  prejudiced  not  so  much  against 
the  verse,  as  against  the  treatment  of  the  fair  maid  of 
France,  as  we  now  know  her;  we  hope  the  writer  is  not 
Shakespeare ;  we  might  hope  it  could  be  no  writer  at  all.  I 
will  state  some  considerations  for  and  against :  Shakespeare, 
at  any  rate,  has  sanctioned  the  presence  of  this  scene ;  that 
goes  for  a  good  deal ;  next,  ( 1 )  many  English  characters 
meet  with  harsh  treatment  in  these  early  chronicles  and 
plays,  and  Joan  was  not  English,  but  French;  (2)  more 
important  still,  she  was  regarded  as  a  witch;  (3)  the  sketch 
of  Joan  in  this  play,  if  not  less  repulsive  than  that  of  the 
chronicles,  makes  some  attempt  at  justice  (lines  36-53)  ; 
(4)  we  may  fairly  say  that  the  writer  of  the  drama  would 
be  compelled  either  to  omit  the  character  altogether  (which 
was  impossible),  or  to  bow  before  (a)  the  Chronicles,  (b) 
popular  belief  and  prejudice,  (c)  what  was  probably,  at 
least  In  part,  his  own  mistaken  conviction.  However,  for 
the  relief  of  any  who  may  think  Shakespeare's  honor  is 
threatened  by  this  scene,  I  may  add  that  if  we  place  it  under 
the  microscope  we  find  that  only  the  lines  above  men- 
tioned, 36-53,  bear  any  distinct  marks  of  Shakespeare's 
handling;  again  I  will  support  my  general  statement:  lines 
52,  53, 

Whose  mniden  Wnnd.  thus  rigrormisly  cfTiisecT, 
Will  cry  for  vengeance  at  the  gates  of  heaven, 
xxxix 


Comments  THE   FIRST   PART    OF 

may  be  compared  with  "Richard  II,"  I.  i.  116-118: 

Whose  blood,  like  sacrificing  Abel's,  cries 
Even  from  the  tongueless  caverns  of  the  earth 
To  me  for  justice  and  rough  chastisement; 

and  in  the  same  play  "Heaven"  will  "rain  hot  vengeance" 
en  offenders'  heads. — Luce,  Handbook  to  Shakespeare's 
Works. 


LORD  TALBOT 

Joan's  death  appears  the  organic  contrast  to  that  of  the 
Earl  of  Salisbury,  of  Lord  Talbot,  and  his  son.  Lord  Tal- 
bot is  obviously  the  noblest  character  in  the  whole  play,  a 
rough  and  vigorous  knight ;  battle  and  war,  self-devoted 
patriotism,  knightl}^  honor  and  bravery,  these  have  consti- 
tuted his  entire  life ;  all  higher  ideas  seem  beyond  him ;  he 
knows  how  to  win  a  battle,  but  not  how  to  carry  on  a  war ; 
he  is  an  excellent  military  captain,  but  no  general,  no  chief, 
because,  although  valiant  and  even  discreet  and  prudent 
(as  is  proved  by  his  interview  with  the  Countess  of  Au- 
vergne),  he  does  not  possess  either  presence  of  mind,  cre- 
ative power,  or  a  clear  insight  into  matters.  This,  together 
with  the  harshness  and  roughness  of  his  virtue,  which  has 
in  it  something  of  the  rage  of  the  lion,  is  his  weak  point, 
and  proves  the  cause  of  his  death.  His  power  was  not 
equal  to  the  complicated  circumstances  and  the  depravity 
of  the  age ;  under  the  ii'on  rod  of  chastisement,  he  became 
equally  unbending  and  iron ;  he  is  the  representative  of  the 
rage  and  ferocity  of  the  war,  to  which  he  falls  a  victim 
because  he  is  wholly  absorbed  in  It  and  therefore  unable  to 
become  the  master  In  directing  it.  In  such  days,  however, 
the  honorable  death  of  a  noble  character  proves  a  blessing ; 
victory  and  pleasure  are  found  In  death  when  life  succumbs 
to  the  superior  power  of  evil,  to  the  weight  and  misery  of 
a  decline  which  affects  both  the  nation  and  the  state. — ' 
Ulrici,  Shakspeare^s  Dramatic  Art. 

3d 


KING   HENRY   VI  Comments 


A  COMPARISON  WITH  LATER  PLAYS 

If  we  take  the  piece  purely  in  a  dramatic  point  of  view, 
and  consider  it  as  a  work  for  the  stage,  it  affords,  as  we  be- 
fore said,  an  excellent  lesson  in  its  contrast  to  Shakespeare's 
general  mode  of  proceeding.  There  is  here  no  unity  of  ac- 
tion, indeed  not  even,  as  in  Pericles,  a  unity  of  person.  If 
we  look  strictly  into  the  single  scenes,  they  are  so  loosely 
united,  that  whole  series  may  be  expunged  without  injur- 
ing the  piece,  indeed  perhaps  not  without  improving  it — • 
an  attempt  which  even  in  Pericles  could  not  be  carried  far. 
We  need  only  superficially  perceive  this,  in  order  to  feel 
how  far  removed  the  dramatic  works  of  art  previous  to 
Shakespeare  were  from  that  strong  and  systematic  inner 
structure,  which  admits  of  no  dismemberment  without  dis- 
tortion. 

If  we  separate  all  the  scenes  between  York  and  Somerset, 
Mortimer  and  York,  Margaret  and  Suffolk,  and  read  them 
by  themselves,  we  feel  that  we  are  looking  upon  a  series 
of  scenes  which  exhibit  Shakespeare's  style  in  his  historical 
plays  just  in  the  manner  in  whicli  we  should  have  expected 
him  to  have  written  at  the  commencement  of  his  career. 
We  sec  the  skilful  and  witty  turn  of  speech  and  the  germ 
of  his  figurative  language ;  we  perceive  already  the  fine 
clever  repartees  and  the  more  choice  form  of  expression ;  in 
Mortimer's  death-scene  and  in  the  lessons  of  his  deeply-dis- 
sembled silent  policy,  which  while  d3'ing  he  transmits  to 
York,  we  see,  with  Hallam,  all  the  genuine  feeling  and 
knowledge  of  human  nature  which  belongs  to  Shakespeare 
in  similar  pathetic  or  political  scenes  in  his  other  dramas ; 
all,  not  in  that  abundance  and  masterly  power  which  he 
subsequently  manifested,  but  certainly  in  the  germ  which 
prefigures  future  perfection.  These  scenes  contrast  de- 
cidedly with  the  trivial,  tedious  war  scenes  and  the  alternate 
bombastic  and  dull  disputes  between  Gloster  and  Win- 
chester; they  adhere  to  the  common  highway  of  historical 

poetry,  though  they   have  sufficient   of  the   freshness   of 

xli 


Comments  KING   HENRY   VI 

youthful  art  to  furnish  Schiller  in  his  "Maid  of  Orleans" 
with  many  beautiful  traits,  and  indeed  with  the  principal 
idea  of  his  drama. — Gervinus,  Shakespeare  Commentaries. 


xlli 


THE  FIRST  PART  OF 
KING  HENRY  VI 


Shk-l-12 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

King  Henry  the  Sixth 

Duke  of  Gloucester,  uncle  to  the  King,  and  Protector 

Duke  of  Bedford,  xnicle  to  the  King,  and  Regent  of  France 

Thomas  Beaufort,  Duke  of  Exeter,  great-uncle  to  the  King 

Hexey  Beaufort,  great-uncle  to  the  King,  Bishop  of  Winchester ,  and 

afterwards  Cardinal 
John  Beaufort,  Earl,  afterwards  Duke,  of  Somerset 
Richard    Pi.antagexet,    son   of   Richard,   late   Earl   of   Cambridge, 

aftenoards  Duke  of  York 
Earl  of  Warwick 
Earl  of   Salisjjury 
Earl  of  Suffolk 

Lord  Talbot,  afterwards  Earl  of  Shrewsbury 
John  Talbot,  his  son 
Edmund  Mortoier,  Earl  of  March 
Sir  John  Fastolfe 
Sir  William  Lucy 
Sir  William  Glaxsdale 
Sir  Thomas  Gargrave 
,  Mayor  of  London 
Woodvile,  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower 
Vernon,  of  the  White-Rose  or  York  faction 
Basset,  of  the  Red-Rose  or  Lancaster  faction 
A  Lawyer,  Mortimer's  Keepers 

Charles,  Dawphin,  and  afterwards  King,  of  France 

Reignier,  Duke  of  Anjoti,  and  titidar  King  of  Naples 

Duke  of  Burgundy 

Duke  of  Alencon 

Bastard  of  Orleans 

Governor  of  Paris 

Master-Gunner  of  Orleans  and  his  Son 

General  of  the  French  forces  in  Bordeaux 

A   French  Sergeant     A   Porter 

An  old  Shepherd,  father  to  Joan  la  Pucelle 

Margaret,  daughter  to  Reignier,  afterwards  married  to  King  Henry 

Countess  of  Auvergne 

Joan  la  Pucelle,  commonly  called  Joan  of  Arc 

Lords,   Warders  of  the  Tower,   Heralds,  Officers,  Soldiers,  Messen- 
gers, and  Attendants 

Fiends   appearing   to   La   Pucelle 

Scene:  Partly  in  England,  and  partly  in  France 

2 


SYNOPSIS 


ACT    I 

B}'  the  death  of  the  valiant  King  Henry  V  his  infant 
son,  Henry  VI,  succeeded  to  the  thrones  of  England  and 
France.  The  young  King's  guardians,  forgetful  of  their 
country's  interests,  engage  in  quarrels  with  each  other. 
The  French  take  advantage  of  this  weakness  to  regain 
many  of  their  cities.  Joan  la  Pucelle,  or  Joan  of  Arc,  as 
she  is  known  in  history,  renders  valuahle  aid  to  the  Dauphin 
of  France,  later  Charles  VH  ;  she  assists  him  to  raise  the 
siege  of  Orleans  in  spite  of  the  able  resistance  of  Talbot,  the 
English  general. 

ACT   n 

The  English  retake  Orleans  by  a  sudden  attack  while 
the  French  are  feasting  in  celebration  of  their  victory.  In 
England  the  quarrels  of  Richard  Plantagenet,  afterwards 
the  Duke  of  York,  and  John  Beaufort,  Earl,  afterwards 
the  Duke,  of  Somerset,  grow  more  violent  and  develop  into 
the  civil  war  known  as  the  War  of  the  Roses  from  the  col- 
ors and  flowers  worn  by  either  side — white  roses  by  the 
Plantagenets  (the  House  of  York)  and  red  ones  by  the 
Somersets  (the  House  of  Lancaster). 

ACT   m 

Aided  by  La  Pucelle,  the  French  capture  Rouen,  but  the 
English  under  Talbot  retake  it.  Leaving  a  garrison  in 
the  town,  Talbot  and  his  army  go  to  Paris,  where  the  young 
monarch,  Henry  VI,  is  awaiting  his  coronation  as  King 
of  France.  The  French  Duke  of  Burgundy,  who  has  been 
serving  in  the  English  army,  is  met  by  La  Pucelle  and  the 

S 


Synopsis  KING  HENRY  VI 

Dauphin  and  persuaded  to  return  to  his  old  allegiance. 
Henry  creates  Talbot  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  in  recognition  of 
his  services. 

ACT    IV 

Talbot  and  his  son  John  attempt  to  capture  Bordeaux, 
but  are  surrounded  by  a  much  larger  force  of  the  French 
under  the  Dauphin.  The  quarrels  of  the  Dukes  of  York 
and  Somerset  prevent  them  from  sending  additional  troops 
to  the  Talbots  and  they  are  slain  in  a  strongly  contested 
battle. 

ACT    V 

Henry  VI  consents  to  his  guardians'  plans  for  his  mar- 
riage with  the  daughter  of  the  French  Earl  of  Armagnac. 
In  a  battle  before  Angiers,  the  English  capture  Joan  of 
Arc  and  Margaret  of  Anjou.  Joan  is  condemned  to  death 
at  the  stake  and  Henry  is  persuaded  by  the  Duke  of  Suffolk 
to  break  his  engagement  with  the  Earl  of  Armagnac's 
daughter  in  favor  of  an  alliance  with  Margaret.  Charles 
the  Dauphin  swears  allegiance  to  Henry  VI  and  reigns  as 
viceroy  of  France. 


THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

KING  HENRY  VI 

ACT  FIRST 

Scene  I 

Westminster  Abbey. 

Dead  March.  Enter  the  Funeral  of  King 
Henry  the  Fifth,  attended  on  by  the  Duke 
of  Bedford,  Regent  of  France;  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  Protector;  the  Duke  of  Exe- 
ter, the  Earl  of  JVarwick,  the  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  Heralds,  (§c. 

Bed.  Hung  be  the  heavens  with  black,  yield  day 
to  night! 
Comets,  importing  change  of  times  and  states, 
Brandish  your  crystal  tresses  in  the  sky. 
And  with  them  scourge  the  bad  revolting  stars 

1.  The  upper  part  of  the  stage  was  in  Shakespeare's  times  technic- 
ally called  the  heavens,  and  was  used  to  be  hung  with  black  when 
tragedies  were  performed.  To  this  custom  the  text  probably  refers. 
— H.   N.   H. 

3.  "crystal,"  unnecessarily  changed  by  Hanmer  to  "crisped";  War- 
burton,  "cristed"  or  "crested";  Roderick,  "tristful  tresses  in  the  sky," 
or  "tresses  in  the  crystal  sky." — I.  G. 

5 


Act  1.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

That  have  consented  unto  Henry's  death! 
King  Henry  the  Fifth,  too  famous  to  hve  long  I 
England  ne'er  lost  a  king  of  so  much  worth. 
Glou.  England  ne'er  had  a  king  until  his  time. 
Virtue  he  had,  deserving  to  command: 
His  brandish'd  sword  did  blind  men  with  his 

beams :  ^^ 

His  arms  spread  wider  than  a  dragon's  wings; 
His  sparkling  eyes,  replete  v>^ith  wrathful  fire, 
IMore  dazzled  and  drove  back  his  enemies 
Than   mid-day   sun   fierce    bent   against    their 

faces. 
What  should  I  say  ?  his  deeds  exceed  all  speech : 
He.ne'er  lift  up  his  hand  but  conquered. 
'Etce.  We  mourn  in  black:  why  mourn  we  not  in 

blood  ? 
Henry  is  dead  and  never  shall  revive: 
Upon  a  wooden  coffin  we  attend, 
And  death's  dishonorable  victory  20 

The  epithet  Crystal  was  often  bestowed  on  Comets  by  the  old  writ- 
ers.—H.  N.  H. 

5.  consented  unto,  conspired  to  bring  about. — C.  H.  H. 

6.  "King  Henry  the  Fifth";  Pope,  "Henry  the  Fifth";  Walker, 
"King  Henry  Fifth";  Pope's  reading  has  been  generally  followed  by 
modern  editors. — I.  G. 

12.  "wrathful";  Rowe,  "awful."— I.  G. 

17.  Thomas  Beaufort,  the  present  duke  of  Exeter,  was  son  to 
John  of  Ghent  by  Catherine  Swynford ;  born  out  of  wedlock,  but 
legitimated  along  with  three  other  children  in  the  time  of  Richard 
II.  Of  course  therefore  he  was  great  uncle  to  King  Henry  VI. 
At  the  death  of  Henry  V  he  was  appointed  governor  of  the  in- 
fant king,  which  office  he  held  till  his  death  in  1425.  The  Poet, 
however,  prolongs  his  life  till  1444,  the  period  of  the  First  Part. 
Holinshed  calls  him  "a  right  sage  and  discreet  counsellor."  The 
name  Beaufort  was  derived  from  the  place  of  his  birth,  which  was 
Beaufort  castle  in  France. — H.  N.  H. 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

We  with  our  stately  presence  glorify, 
Like  captives  boiiiul  to  a  triumphant  car. 
What !  shall  we  curse  the  planets  of  mishap 
That  plotted  thus  our  glory's  overthrow  ? 
Or  shall  we  think  the  subtle-witted  French 
Conjurers  and  sorcerers,  that  afraid  of  him 
By  magic  verses  have  contrived  his  end? 
Win.  He  was  a  king  bless'd  of  the  King  of  kings. 
Unto  the  French  the  dreadful  judgment-day 
So  dreadful  will  not  be  as  was  his  sight.  30 

The  battles  of  the  Lord  of  hosts  he  fought : 

24.  "glory's";  Ff.,  "Glories."—!.  G. 

27.  "By  magic  verses  have  contrived  his  end";  alluding  to  the  old 
notion  "that  life  might  be  taken  away  by  metrical  charms"  (John- 
son).    Ff.  2,  3,  A,  "Verse";  Pope,  "verse  have  thus."— I.  G. 

This  is  well  explained  by  a  passage  in  Reginald  Scot's  Discoverie 
of  Witchcraft,  1581.:  "The  Irishmen  will  not  sticke  to  affirme  that 
they  can  rime  man  or  Beast  to  death." — H.  N.  H. 

28.  Henry  Beaufort,  known  in  history  as  "the  great  bishop  of 
Winchester,"  was  brother  to  the  duke  of  Exeter.  At  this  time 
he  held  the  office  of  chancellor,  and  was  associated  with  Exeter 
in  the  governing  of  the  infant  sovereign.  The  quarrel  between  him 
and  his  nephew,  the  duke  of  Gloster,  did  not  break  out  till  1425, 
though  it  had  been  l)rewing  in  secret  for  some  time.  In  1427  he  was 
advanced  by  Pope  Martin  to  the  office  of  cardinal.  The  matter  is 
thus  related  by  Holinshed:  "After  that  the  duke  of  Bedford  had 
set  all  things  in  good  order  in  England,  he  returned  into  France, 
first  landing  at  Calls,  where  the  bishop  of  Winchester,  that  also 
passed  the  seas  with  him,  received  the  habit,  hat,  and  dignitie  of  a 
cardinall.  The  late  king,  right  dccplie  persing  into  the  unrestrain- 
able  ambitious  mind  of  the  man,  that  even  from  his  youth  was  ever 
to  cliecke  at  the  highest;  and  also  right  well  ascertained  with  what 
intollerable  pride  his  head  should  soone  lie  swollen  under  such  a  hat; 
did  therefore  all  his  life  long  keepe  this  prelat  backe  from  that  pre- 
sumptuous estate.  But  now,  the  king  being  yoong,  and  the  regent 
his  freend,  he  obteined  his  purpose  to  his  great  profit.  For  by  a 
bull  legantin,  which  he  purchased  from  Rome,  he  gathered  so  much 
treasure,  that  ho  man  in  maner  had  monie  but  he;  so  that  he  was 
called  the  rich  cardinall  of  Winchester." — H.  N.  H. 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

The  church's  prayers  made  him  so  prosperous. 

Glou,  The  church!  where  is  it?     Had  not  church- 
men pray'd, 
His  thread  of  life  had  not  so  soon  decay'd: 
None  do  you  like  but  an  effeminate  prince, 
Whom,  Hke  a  school-boy,  you  may  over-awe. 

Win,  Gloucester,  whate'er  we  like,  thou  art  Pro- 
tector, 
And  lookest  to  command  the  prince  and  realm. 
Thy  wife  is  proud ;  she  holdeth  thee  in  awe. 
More  than  God  or  religious  churchmen  may.    40 

Glou.  Name  not  religion,  for  thou  lovest  the  flesh, 
And  ne'er  throughout  the  year  to  church  thou 

go'st 
Except  it  be  to  pray  against  thy  foes. 

Bed.  Cease,  cease  these  jars  and  rest  your  minds  in 
peace : 
Let 's  to  the  altar :  heralds,  wait  on  us : 
Instead  of  gold,  we  '11  offer  up  our  arms ; 
Since  arms  avail  not  now  that  Henry's  dead. 
Posterity,  await  for  wretched  years, 
When  at  their  mothers'  moist  eyes  babes  shall 

suck. 
Our  isle  be  made  a  marish  of  salt  tears,        50 
And  none  but  women  left  to  wail  the  dead. 

33.  "had  not";  Vaughan  proposed  "had  but"  (but  cp.  II.  41-43).— 
I.  G. 

49.  "moist";  so  Ff.  2,  3,  4;  F.  1,  "moistned."—!.  G. 

50.  Tlie  original  has  "nourisli"  here,  which  can  hardly  be  made  to 
yield  any  reasonable  meaning.  Pope  thought  "nourish"  a  misprint 
for  "marish,"  an  old  form  of  "marsh";  and  Ritson  gives  an  apt  quo- 
tation from  Kyd's  Spanish  Tragedy:  "Made  mountains  marsh  with 
spring  tides  of  my  tears." — H.  N.  H. 

8 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  l 

Henry  the  I'iftli,  thy  gliost  I  invocate: 
Prosper  this  reahii,  keep  it  from  civil  broils, 
Combat  with  adverse  planets  in  the  heavens  I 
A  far  more  glorious  star  thy  soul  will  make 
Than  Julius  Caesar  or  bright — 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  honorable  lords,  health  to  you  all  I 
Sad  tidings  bring  I  to  you  out  of  France, 
Of  loss,  of  slaughter  and  discomfiture: 
Guienne,  Champagne,  Rheims,  Orleans,  60 

Paris,  Guysors,  Poictiers,  are  all  quite  lost. 
Bed.  What  say'st  thou,  man,  before  dead  Henry's 
corse  ? 
Speak  softly;  or  the  loss  of  those  great  towns 
Will  make  him  burst  his  lead  and  rise  from 
death. 
GloUy  Is  Paris  lost?  is  Rouen  yielded  up 
If  Henry  were  recali'd  to  life  again, 
These  news  would  cause  him  once  more  yield 
the  ghost. 
Ea!e.  How   were   they   lost?   what   treachery   was 

used? 
Mess,  No  treachery;  but  want  of  men  and  money. 

56.  "or   brUjht ";   various   attempts   have   been   made  to   fill   up 

the  blank,  which  some  editors  explain  as  due  to  the  inability  of  the 
compositor  to  read  the  name  in  the  MS.;  Francis  Drake,  Berenice, 
Cassiopeia,  Alexander,  &c.,  have  been  suggested.  Probably  the 
speech  is  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  messenger. — I.  G. 

GO.  "Rheims";  Ff.,  "Rheimes";  evidently  intended  as  a  dissyllable; 
but  Capell's  "Rheims,  Romi."  derives  some  support  from  the  fact 
that  Roan,  i.  e.  Rouen,  is  mentioned  by  Gloucester  in  line  65  (Cam- 
bridge ed.). — 1.  G. 

65.  "Rouen";  F.  1,  "Roan."—l.  G. 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Amongst  the  soldiers  this  is  muttered,  ^0 

That  here  you  maintain  several  factions, 

And  whilst  a  field  should  be  dispatch'd  and 
fought, 

You  are  disputing  of  your  generals ; 

One  would  have  lingering  wars  with  little  cost ; 

Another  would  fly  swift,  but  wanteth  wings; 

A  third  thinks,  without  expense  at  all. 

By  guileful  fair  words  peace  may  be  obtain'd. 

Awake,  awake,  English  nobility! 

Let  not  sloth  dim  your  honors  new-begot : 

Cropp'd  are  the  flower-de-luces  in  your 

arms ;  80 

Of  England's  coat  one  half  is  cut  away. 
Exe.  Were  our  tears  wanting  to  this  funeral. 

These  tidings  would  call  forth  their  flowing 
tides. 
Bed.  Me  they  concern ;  Regent  I  am  of  France. 

Give  me  my  steeled  coat.     I  '11  fight  for  France. 

Away  with  these  disgraceful  wailing  robes ! 

Wounds  will  I  lend  the  French  instead  of  eyes, 

To  weep  their  intermissive  miseries. 

Enter  to  them  another  Messenger. 

76.  "A  third";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "A  third  man";  Walker,  "A  third  one"; 
Delius,  "A  third  thinketh";  Keightley,  "A  third  thinks  that";  Dyce, 
"And  a  third  thinks,"  &c.  Surely  a  simpler  solution  of  the  diflBculty 
is  to  read  "third"  as  a  dissyllable  with  a  trilled  r. — I.  G. 

78.  "Aioake,  awake";  F.  2,  "Awake,  aioay." — I.  G. 

83.  "their";  Theobald's  emendation;  Ff.  "her";  Anon.  conj.  "our." 
—I.  G. 

That  is,  England's  flowing  tides. — H.  N.  H. 

88.  That  is,  their  miseries  which  have  only  a  short  intermission. — 
H.  N.  H. 

10 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Mess.  Lords,  view  these  letters  full  of  bad  mis- 
chance. 

France  is  revolted  from  the  English  (luite,       90 

Except  some  petty  towns  of  no  import: 

The  Dauphin  Charles  is  crowned  king  in 
Rheims ; 

The  Bastard  of  Orleans  with  him  is  join'd; 

Reignier,  Duke  of  Anjou,  doth  take  his  part; 

The  Duke  of  Alen9on  flieth  to  his  side. 
Exe.  The  Dauphin  crowned  king !  all  fly  to  him ! 

O,  whither  shall  we  fly  from  this  reproach? 
Glou.  We  will  not  fly,  but  to  our  enemies'  throats. 

Bedford,  if  thou  be  slack,  I  '11  fight  it  out. 
Bed.  Gloucester,  why  doubt'st  thou  of  my  forward- 
ness? 1^^ 

An  army  have  I  muster'd  in  my  thoughts, 

Wherewith  already  France  is  overrun. 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

Mess.  ]SIy  gracious  lords,  to  add  to  your  laments. 
Wherewith  you  now  bedew  King  Henry's 

hearse, 
I  must  inform  you  of  a  dismal  fight 
Betwixt  the  stout  Lord  Talbot  and  the  French. 

Win.  What!  wherein  Talbot  overcame?  is  't  so? 

Mess.  O,  no ;  wherein  Lord  Talbot  was  o'erthrown : 
The  circumstance  I  '11  tell  you  more  at  large. 
The  tenth  of  August  last  this  dreadful  lord,    HO 

94.  "Reignier";  Rowe's  emendation  of  "Reynold"  of  the  Ff.— I.  G. 

95.  "The  Duke  of  Alenqon";  Walker  omits   "of,"  to   improve   the 
rhythm  of  the  line. — I.  G. 

96.  "crovned";  Rowe's  emendation;  "crown'd"  the  reading  of  the 
Folios. — I.  G. 

11 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Retiring  from  the  siege  of  Orleans, 

Having  full  scarce  six  thousand  in  his  troop, 

By  three  and  twentj^  thousand  of  the  French 

Was  round  encompassed  and  set  upon. 

No  leisure  had  he  to  enrank  his  men ; 

He  wanted  pikes  to  set  before  his  archers; 

Instead  whereof  sharp  stakes  pluck'd  out  of 

hedges 
Thej^  pitched  in  the  ground  confusedlj^ 
To  keep  the  horsemen  off  from  breaking  in. 
More  than  three  hours  the  fight  continued ;     i'^0 
Where  valiant  Talbot  above  human  thought 
Enacted  wonders  with  his  svv^ord  and  lance: 
Hundreds  he  sent  to  hell,  and  none  durst  stand 

him; 
Here,  there,  and  every  where,  enraged  he  flew: 
The  French  exclaim'd,  the  devil  was  in  arms ; 
All  the  whole  army  stood  agazed  on  him: 
His  soldiers  spying  his  undaunted  spirit 
A  Talbot!  a  Talbot!  cried  out  amain. 
And  rush'd  into  the  bov.^els  of  the  battle. 
Here  had  the  conquest  fully  been  seal'd  up,    130 
If  Sir  John  Fastolf  e  had  not  play'd  the  coward : 

124.  "few:'  RcTH-e's  correction;  Ff.,  "sUw."—\.  G. 

128.  "A  Talbot!  a  Talbot!  cried  out  amain."  The  line  has  been 
variously  emended  as  being  defective,  metrically.  Pope,  "A  Tal- 
bot! Talbot!  cried";  Seymour,  "A  Talbot!  cried,  a  Talbot!";  Vaughan, 
"Talbot!  a  Talbot!  cried."  If,  however,  "cried"  is  read  as  a  dis- 
syllable, the  movement  of  the  line  is  parallel  to  that  of  "prevent  it, 
resist  it,  let  it  not  be  so,"  in  Richard  II.  iv.,  and  no  correction  seems 
necessary — 

A  Talbot!  \  A  Talbot!  cri\ed  out  |  amain  |  .—I.  G. 

131.  "Sir  John  Fastolfe";  Theobald's  emendation  here  and  else- 
where of  Ff.  "Sir  John  Falstaffe";  but  in  all  probability  Falstaff 
was  the  popular  form  of  the  name,  and  it  is  questionable  whether 

12 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

He,  being  in  the  vaward,  placed  behind 
With  purpose  to  reheve  and  follow  them, 
Cowardly  fled,  not  having  struck  one  stroke. 
Hence  grew  the  general  wreck  and  massacre ; 
Enclosed  were  they  w  ith  their  enemies : 
A  base  Walloon,  to  win  the  Dauphin's  grace, 
Thrust  Talbot  with  a  spear  into  the  back, 
Whom  all  France  with  their  chief  assembled 

strength 
Durst  not  presume  to  look  once  in  the  face.    1^0 

Bed.  Is  Talbot  slain?  then  I  will  slav  mvself. 
For  living  idly  here  in  pomp  and  ease. 
Whilst  such  a  worthy  leader,  wanting  aid, 
Unto  his  dastard  foemen  is  betray'd. 

Mess.  O  no,  he  lives ;  but  is  took  prisoner, 

the  text  should  be  altered  here.  "He  was  a  lieutenant-general, 
deputy  regent  to  the  Duke  of  Bedford  in  Normandy,  and  a  Knight 
of  the  Garter."— I.  G. 

132.  "Vaward"  is  an  old  word  for  the  foremost  part  of  an  army,  the 
van.  The  passage  seems  to  involve  a  contradiction;  but  the  mean- 
ing probably  is,  that  Fastolfe  commonly  led  the  vaward,  but  was 
on  this  occasion  placed  behind.  Monck  Mason  supposes  the  army 
to  have  been  attacked  in  the  rear,  and  remarks  that  in  such  cases 
"the  van  becomes  the  rear." — The  original  has  Fahtaffe  for  Fas- 
tolfe; but  of  course  without  any  reference  to  the  fat,  funny  old 
sinner  of  Henry  IV,  who  had  not  been  conceived  when  this  play 
was  written.  Fastolfe  was  an  actual  person,  greatly  distinguished 
during  these  wars  in  France,  and  is  well  known  in  history.  He 
was  as  far  as  possible  from  being  a  "coward":  nevertheless,  Holin- 
shed,  speaking  of  the  battle  of  Patay,  June,  1429,  where  Talbot 
was  taken  prisoner,  has  the  following:  "From  this  battell  departed 
without  anie  stroke  striken  sir  John  Fastolfe,  the  same  yeare  for 
his  valiantnessc  elected  into  the  order  of  the  garter.  But,  for 
doubt  of  misdealing  in  this  brunt,  the  duke  of  Bedford  tooke  from 
him  the  image  of  saint  George  and  his  garter;  though  afterward, 
by  means  of  freends,  and  apparent  causes  of  good  excuse,  the 
same  were  to  him  again  delivered  against  the  mind  of  lord  Tal- 
bot."—H.  N.  H. 

13 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

And  Lord  Scales  with  him,  and  Lord  Hunger- 
ford  : 
INlost  of  the  rest  slaughter'd  or  took  likewise. 

Bed.  His  ransom  there  is  none  but  I  shall  pay: 
I  '11  hale  the  Dauphin  headlong  from  his  throne: 
His  crown  shall  be  the  ransom  of  my  friend;  150 
Four  of  their  lords  I  '11  change  for  one  of  ours. 
Farewell,  my  masters ;  to  my  task  will  I ; 
Bonfires  in  France  forthwith  I  am  to  make. 
To  keep  our  great  Saint  George's  feast  withal : 
Ten  thousand  soldiers  with  me  I  will  take. 
Whose   bloody   deeds   shall  make   all   Europe 
quake. 

Mess.  So  you  had  need ;  for  Orleans  is  besieged ; 
The  English  army  is  grown  weak  and  faint : 
The  Earl  of  Salisbury  craveth  supply. 
And  hardly  keeps  his  men  from  mutiny,        160 
Since  they,  so  few,  watch  such  a  multitude. 

Exe.  Remember,  lords,  your  oaths  to  Henry  svv  orn, 
Either  to  quell  the  Dauphin  utterly, 
Or  bring  him  in  obedience  to  j^our  yoke. 

Bed.  I  do  remember  it ;  and  here  take  my  leave. 
To  go  about  my  preparation.  [Exit. 

Glou.  I  '11  to  the  Tower  with  all  the  haste  I  can. 
To  view  the  artillery  and  munition ; 
And  then  I  will  proclaim  young  Henry 

king.  [Exit. 

Exe.  To  Eltham  will  I,  where  the  young  king 
is,  170 

Being  ordain'd  his  special  governor, 

170.  "Ellham,"  a  royul   palace.— C.    H.   H. 
14 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

And  for  his  safety  there  I  '11  best  devise.  lEcVit. 
Win.  Eaeh  hath  his  place  and  function  to  attend: 
I  am  left  out ;  for  me  nothing  remains. 
But  long  I  will  not  be  Jack  out  of  office : 
The  king  from  Eltham  I  intend  to  steal 
And  sit  at  chief  est  stern  of  public  weal. 

\_Ea:eunt. 


Scene  II 

France.     Before  Orleans. 

Sound  a  Flourish.     Enter  Charles,  Alenfon,  and 
Reignier,  marching  xnith  Drum  and  Soldiers. 

Char.  ^lars  his  true  moving,  even  as  in  the  heavens 
So  in  the  earth,  to  this  day  is  not  Imown : 
Late  did  he  shine  upon  the  English  side ; 
Now  we  are  victors ;  upon  us  he  smiles. 
What  towns  of  any  moment  but  we  have? 
At  pleasure  here  we  lie  near  Orleans; 

176.  "steal,"  Mason's  conjecture;  Ff.,  "send";  Keightley,  "fetch." 
—I.  G. 

177.  This  was  one  of  the  things  charged  upon  the  Bishop  by 
Gloucester  when  their  quarrel  broke  out.  Thus  in  Holinshed  "my 
said  lord  of  Winchester  purposed  and  disposed  him  to  set  hand  on 
the  King's  person,  and  to  have  him  removed  from  Eltham,  to  the 
intent  to  put  him  in  governance  as  he  list." — H.  N.  H. 

1.  "^fars  his  true  movbuj" ;  cp.  "You  are  as  ignorant  in  the  true 
movings  of  my  muse  as  the  astronomers  are  in  the  true  mov'mgs  of 
3/rtr», "which  to  this  day  they  could  not  attain  to,"  quoted  by  Steevens 
from  one  of  Nash's  prefaces  to  Gabriel  Harvey's  Uunt'.'^  Up,  lo9G. 
Kepler's  work  on  Mars  (Comment,  de  Motibus  SteUcF  Martis)  was 
published  in  1609.— I.  G. 


15 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Otlierwhiles   the   famish'd   English,   Uke   pale 

ghosts. 
Faintly  besiege  us  one  hour  in  a  month. 

Alen.  They  ^vant  their  porridge  and  their  fat  bull- 
beeves 
Either  they  must  be  dieted  like  mules,  10 

And  have  their  provender  tied  to  their  mouths, 
Or  piteous  they  will  look,  like  drowned  mice. 

Reig.  Let 's  raise  the  siege :  wh}^  live  we  idly  here  ? 
Talbot  is  taken,  whom  we  wont  to  fear: 
Remaineth  none  but  mad-brain'd  Salisbury; 
And  he  may  well  in  fretting  spend  his  gall, 
Nor  men  nor  money  hath  he  to  make  war. 

Char.  Sound,  sound  alarum!  we  will  rush  on  them. 
Now  for  the  honor  of  the  forlorn  French! 
Him  I  forgive  my  death  that  killeth  me  20 

When  he  sees  me  go  back  one  foot  or  fly. 

lEa^'eunt. 

Here  Alarum;  they  are  beaten  back  by  the  English 

with  great  loss. 
Re-enter  Charles ^  Alen^on,  and  Reignier. 

Char.  Who  ever  saw  the  like  ?  what  men  have  I ! 

Dogs!  cowards!  dastards!     I  would  ne'er  have 
fled, 

Eut  that  they  left  me  'midst  my  enemies. 
Reig.  Salisbury  is  a  desperate  homicide; 

He  fighteth  as  one  weary  of  his  life. 

The  other  lords,  like  lions  wanting  food, 

Do  rush  upon  us  as  their  hungry  prey. 

13.  "Jive";  Capell,  "sit";  Walker,  "lie."— I.  G. 

28.  That  is,  the  prey  for  which  they  are  hungry. — H.  N.  Ho 

16 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Alen,  Froissart,  a  countryman  of  ours,  records, 
England  all  Olivers  and  Rowlands  bred  30 

During  the  time  Edward  the  Third  did  reign. 
More  truly  now  may  this  be  verified; 
For  none  but  Samsons  and  Goliases 
It  sendeth  forth  to  skirmish.     One  to  ten! 
Lean  raw-boned  rascals !  who  would  e'er  suppose 
They  had  such  courage  and  audacity? 

Char.  Let 's  leave  this  town;  for  they  are  hare- 
brain'd  slaves, 
And  hunger  will  enforce  them  to  be  more  eager : 
Of  old  I  know  them;  rather  with  their  teeth 

The  walls  they  '11  tear  down  than  forsake  the 

40 
siege.  ^" 

Reig.  I  think,  by  some  odd  gimmors  or  device 
Their  arms  are  set  Hke  clocks,  still  to  strike  on; 
Else  ne'er  could  they  hold  out  so  as  they  do. 
By  my  consent,  we  '11  even  let  them  alone. 

Alen.  Be  it  so. 

Enter  the  Bastard  of  Orleans 
Bast.  Where's  the  Prince  Dauphin?   I  have  news 
for  liim. 

30.  These  were  two  of  the  most  famous  in  the  list  of  Charle- 
magne's twelve  peers;  and  their  exploits  are  tlie  theme  of  the  old 
romances.  From  the  equally  doughty  and  unheard-of  exploits  of 
these  champions,  arose  the  saying  of  "Giving  a  Rowland  for  an 
Oliver,"  for  giving  a  person  as  good  as  he  brings. — H.  N.  H. 

"bred";  Ff.,  breed."— I.  G. 

41.  "Gimmors"  means  any  liind  of  device  or  machine  for  producing 
motion.  Thus  Digby,  Of  Man's  Soul:  "Whence  'tis  manifest  that 
his  answers  do  not  proceed  upon  set  ffimals  or  strings,  whereof  one 
being  struck  moves  the  rest  in  a  set  order."  And  in  Bishop  HaU's 
Epistles:  "The  famous  Kentish  idol  moved  her  eyes  and  liaiids  by 
those  secret  ghnmers  which  now  every  puppet  play  can  imitate,"— 
H.  N.  H. 

17 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Char.  Bastard  of  Orleans,  thrice  welcome  to  us. 

Bast.  ^lethinks  your  looks  are  sad,  your  cheer  ap- 
paU'd: 
Hath  the  late  overthrow  wrought  this  offense? 
Be  not  dismay'd,  for  succor  is  at  hand:  50 

A  holy  maid  hither  with  me  I  bring, 
Which  by  a  vision  sent  to  her  from  heaven 
Ordained  is  to  raise  this  tedious  siege. 
And  drive  the  English  forth  the  bounds  of 

France. 
The  spirit  of  deep  prophecy  she  hath, 
Exceeding  the  nine  sibyls  of  old  Rome: 
What 's  past  and  what 's  to  come  she  can  descry. 
Speak,  shall  I  call  her  in?     Believe  my  words. 
For  they  are  certain  and  un fallible. 

Char.  Go,  call  her  in.     [Exit  Bastard.~\     But  first, 

to  try  her  skill,  60 

Reignier,  stand  thou  as  Dauphin  in  my  place: 

Question  her  proudly ;  let  thy  looks  be  stern : 

By  this  means  shall  we  sound  what  skill  she  hath. 

47.  "Bustard"  was  not  in  former  times  a  title  of  reproach.  Hurd, 
in  his  Letters  on  Chivalry  and  Romance,  makes  it  one  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  agreement  between  Heroic  and  Gothic  manners,  "that 
bastardy  was  in  credit  with  both." — H.  N.  H. 

48.  "Cheer"  in  this  instance  means  heart  or  courage,  as  in  the  ex- 
pression,  "be  of  good   cheer." — H.   N.   H. 

56.  "nine  sibyls  of  old  Rome."  The  number  of  the  Sibyls  is 
variously  given  as  three,  four,  seven,  ten;  possibly  the  "nine"  is 
here  due  to  confusion  with  the  nine  Sibylline  books. — I.  G. 

Warburton  says,  "there  were  no  nine  sibyls  of  Rome:  it  is  a  mis- 
take for  the  nine  Sibjiline  Oracles  brought  to  one  of  the  Tarquins." 
But  the  Poet  followed  the  popular  books  of  his  day,  which  say  that 
the  Ten  Sibyls  were  women  that  had  the  spirit  of  prophecy  and  they 
prophesied  of  Christ. — H.  N.  H. 


18 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  u. 

Be-enter  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  with 
Joan  La  Pucelle. 

Reig.  Fair  maid,  is  't  thou  wilt  do  these  wondrous 
feats  ? 

Puc.  Reignier  is  't  thou  that  thinkest  to  beguile  me? 
Where  is  the  Dauphin?     Come,  come  from  be- 
hind ; 
I  know  thee  well,  though  never  seen  before. 
Be  not  amazed,  there's  nothing  hid  from  me : 
In  private  will  I  talk  w^ith  thee  apart. 
Stand  back,  you  lords,  and  give  us  leave 

awhile.  '^^ 

Reig.  She  takes  upon  her  bravely  at  first  dash. 

Puc.  Dauphin,  I  am  by  birth  a  shepherd's  daugh- 
ter, 
My  wdt  untrain'd  in  any  kind  of  art. 
Heaven  and  our  Lady  gracious  hath  it  pleased 
To  shine  on  my  contemptible  estate: 
Lo,  whilst  I  waited  on  my  tender  lambs, 
And  to  sun's  parching  heat  display'd  my  cheeks, 
God's  mother  deigned  to  appear  to  me, 
And  in  a  vision  full  of  majesty 
Will'd  me  to  leave  my  base  vocation,  80 

And  free  my  country  from  calamity: 
Her  aid  she  promised  and  assured  success: 
In  complete  glory  she  reveal'd  herself; 
And,  whereas  I  was  black  and  s^vart  before. 
With  those  clear  rays  which  she  infused  on  me 
That  beauty  am  I  bless' d  with  which  you  see. 

86.  "which  you  see,"  reading  of  Ff.  :2,  3,  4;  F.  1,  "which  you  may 
see."— I.  G. 

19 


Act  L  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Ask  me  what  question  thou  canst  possible, 

And  I  Avill  answer  unpremeditated: 

My  courage  try  by  combat,  if  thou  darest. 

And  thou  shalt  find  that  I  exceed  my  sex.         90 

Resolve  on  this,  thou  shalt  be  fortunate, 

If  thou  receive  me  for  thy  warlike  mate. 

Char.  Thou  hast  astonish'd  me  with  thy  high  terms; 
Only  this  proof  I  '11  of  thy  valor  make. 
In  single  combat  thou  shalt  buckle  with  me. 
And  if  thou  vanquishest,  thy  words  are  true; 
Otherwise  I  renounce  all  confidence. 

Puc.  I  am  prepared :  here  is  my  keen-edged  sword, 
Deck'd  with  five  flower-de-luces  on  each  side; 
The  which  at  Touraine,  in  Saint  Katharine's 
church-yard,  100 

Out  of  a  great  deal  of  old  iron  I  chose  forth. 

Char.  Then  come,  o'  God's  name ;  I  fear  no  woman. 

P21C.  And  while  I  live,  I  '11  ne'er  fly  from  a  man. 
\_Here  they  fights  and  Joan  La  Pucelle  over- 
comes. 

91.  "Resolve  on  this";  that  is,  be  "convinced  of  it." — H.  N.  H. 

99.  "five";  Ff.,  "fine."— I.  G. 

101.  "Out  of  a  great  deal  of  old  iron";  Dyce's  conjecture,  "out 
of  a  deal  old  iron"  seems  the  best  of  the  emendations  proposed.— I.  G. 

This  is  taken  from  the  chronicler:  "Then  at  the  Dolphins  send- 
ing by  hir  assignement,  from  saint  Katharins  church  of  Fierbois 
in  Touraine,  where  she  never  had  beene,  in  a  secret  place  there 
among  old  iron,  appointed  she  hir  sword  to  be  sought  out  and 
brought  hir,  that  with  five  floure  delices  was  graven  on  both  sides, 
wherewith  she  fought,  and  did  mania  slaughters  by  hir  owne  hands." 
— H.  N.  H. 

103.  "ne'er  fly  from  a  man";  so  F.  1;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "ne'er  flye  no 
man";  Collier  MS.,  "ne'er  fiy  from  no  man";  there  was  probably 
some  jingle  intended: — 

Char.   Then  come,  o'  God's  name;  I  fear  no  xooman. 
Puc.  And  while  I  live,  I'll  ne'er  fly  from  no  man. — I.  G. 

20 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

Char.  Stay,  stay  thy  hands;  thou  art  an  iVmazon, 

And  tightest  with  the  sword  of  Dehorah. 
Puc.  Christ's  mother  heljjs  me,  else  I  were  too 

weak. 
Char.  Whoe'er  helps  thee,  'tis  thou  that  must  help 
me: 
Impatiently  I  burn  with  thy  desire; 
My  heart  and  hands  thou  hast  at  once  subdued. 
Excellent  Pucelle,  if  thy  name  be  so,  ^'^ 

Let  me  thy  servant  and  not  sovereign  be: 
'Tis  the  French  Dauphin  sueth  to  thee  thus. 
Puc.  I  must  not  yield  to  any  rites  of  love, 
For  my  profession's  sacred  from  above: 
When  I  have  chased  all  thy  foes  from  hence, 
Then  will  I  think  upon  a  recompense. 
Char.  Meantime  look   gracious  on  thy   prostrate 

thrall. 
Reig.  My  lord,  methinks,  is  very  long  in  talk. 
Alen.  Doubtless  he  shrives  this  woman  to  her 

smock;  ^^^ 

Else  ne'er  could  he  so  long  protract  his  speech. 

Peig.  Shall  we  disturb  him,  since  he  keeps  no  mean? 

Alen.  He  may  mean  more  than  we  poor  men  do 

knoAV : 

These  women  are  shrewd  tempters  with  their 

tongues. 

Reig.  My  lord,  where  are  you?  what  devise  you  on? 

Shall  we  give  over  Orleans,  or  no? 
Puc.  Why,  no,  I  say,  distrustful  recreants! 

108.  "thy  (Iesire,"=  desire  for  thee.— I.  G. 

Ill,  "Servant"=\over.—C.    H.   H. 

121.  "keeps  no  mean"=  observes  no  measure. — C.  H.  H, 

21 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Fight  till  the  last  gasp ;  I  will  be  your  guard. 

Chai\  What  she  says  I  '11  confirm :  we  '11  fight  it 
out: 

Pac.  Assign'd  am  I  to  be  the  English  scourge. 
This  night  the  siege  assuredly  I  '11  raise :      130 
Expect  Saint  Martin's  summer,  halcyon  days. 
Since  I  have  entered  into  these  wars. 
Glory  is  Hke  a  circle  in  the  water, 
Which  never  ceaseth  to  enlarge  itself 
Till  by  broad  spreading  it  disperse  to  nought. 
With  Henry's  death  the  English  circle  ends; 
Dispersed  are  the  glories  it  included. 
Now  am  I  like  that  proud  insulting  ship 
Which  Csesar  and  his  fortune  bare  at  once. 

Char.  Was  Mahomet  inspired  with  a  dove?         1^0 
Thou  with  an  eagle  art  inspired  then. 
Helen,  the  mother  of  great  Constantine, 

131.  "Expect  Saint  Martin's  summer";  "expect  prosperity  after 
misfortune,  like  fair  weather  at  Martlemas,  after  winter  has  begun" 
(Johnson).     St,  Martin's  Day  is  November  11. — I.  G. 

138,  "That  proud  insulting  ship,  Which  Ccesar  and  his  fortune  hare 
at  once,"  evidently  suggested  by  tlie  following  passage  in  North's 
translation  of  Plutarch's  "Life  of  Caesar": — "Caesar  hearing  that, 
straight  discovered  himself  unto  the  master  of  the  pynnace,  who 
at  first  was  amazed  when  he  saw  him;  but  Caesar,  then  taking 
him  by  the  hand,  said  unto  him,  good  fellow,  be  of  good  cheer, 
.  .  .  and  fear  not,  for  thou  hast  Ccesar  and  his  fortune  ivith  thee." 
—I,  G. 

140,  "Mahomet  inspired  with  a  dove";  cp.  "he  (Mahomet)  used 
to  feed  (a  dove)  with  wheat  out  of  his  ear;  which  dove,  when  it 
was  hungry,  lighted  on  Mahomet's  shoulder,  and  thrust  its  bill  in 
to  find  its  breakfast;  Mahomet  persuading  the  rude  and  simple 
Arabians  that  it  was  the  Holy  Ghost  that  gave  him  advice"  (Raleigh's 
History  of  the  World).— I.  G. 

142.  "Helen."  The  empress  Helena,  according  to  Christian  legend, 
succeeded  by  divine  guidance  in  recovering  the  Cross  of  Christ — 
C.  H,  H. 

22 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  u. 

Nor  yet  Saint  Philip's  daughters,  were  hive 

thee. 
Bright  star  of  Venus,  fall'n  down  on  the  earth, 
How  may  I  reverently  worship  thee  enough? 
Alen.  Leave  off  delays,  and  let  us  raise  the  siege. 
Reig.  Woman,  do  what  thou  canst  to  save  our  hon- 
ors ; 
Drive  them  from  Orleans  and  be  immortalized. 
Char.  Presently  we  '11  try :   come,  let 's  away  about 
it: 
No  prophet  will  I  trust,  if  she  prove  false.    150 

[EiVeunt. 

143,  "Saint  Philip's  daughters";  "the  four  daughters  of  Philip 
mentioned  in  the  Acts." — Hanmer. 

115.  "reverently  xrorship";  Capell,  "ever  worship";  Steevens,  "rev- 
erence, worship";  Dyce  (Collier  MS.),  "reverent  icorship";  the  last 
seems  the  only  plausible  reading. — I.  G. 

US.  "Orleans,"  Ff.,  "Orleance";  Capell,  "Jience."—!.  G. 

150,  The  matter  of  this  scene  is  thus  related  by  Holinshed:  "In 
time  of  this  siege  at  Orleance,  French  stories  sale,  unto  Charles  tiie 
Dolphin  at  Chinon  was  caried  a  yoong  wench  of  an  eighteene  yeeres 
old,  called  Joan  Arc,  borne  at  Domprin  upon  Meuse  in  Loraine. 
Of  favour  was  she  counted  likesome,  of  person  stronglie  made  and 
manlie,  of  courage  great,  hardie,  and  stout  withall,  an  undcrstander 
of  counsels  though  she  were  not  at  them,  great  semblance  of  chas- 
iitie  both  of  bodie  and  behaviour,  the  name  of  Jesus  in  hir  mouth 
about  all  hir  businesses,  hii[iil)le,  obedient,  and  fasting  diverse  dales 
in  the  weeke.  Unto  the  Dolphin  in  his  gallerie  when  first  she  was 
brought,  and  he  shadowing  bimselfe  behind,  setting  otlier  gaie  lords 
before  him  to  trie  hir  cunning,  she  pickt  him  out  alone,  who  therc- 
vpon  had  her  to  the  end  of  the  gallerie,  where  she  held  him  an 
houre  in  secret  and  private  talke,  that  of  his  privie  chamber  was 
thought  verie  long,  and  therefore  would  have  broken  it  off;  but  he 
made  them  a  sign  to  let  hir  saie  on," — H.  N.  H. 


23 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 


Scene  III 

London.    Before  the  Tower, 

Enter  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  with  his  Serving- 
men  in  blue  coats. 

Glou.  I  am  come  to  survey  the  Tower  this  day: 
Since  Henry's  death,  I  fear,  there  is  conveyance. 
Where  be  these  warders,  that  they  wait  not  here? 
Open  the  gates;  'tis  Gloucester  that  calls. 
First  Warder.  \_Within']  Who  's  there  that  knocks 

so  imperiously? 
First  Serv.  It  is  the  noble  Duke  of  Gloucester. 
Second    Warder.  [Within']  Whoe'er   he   be,   you 

may  not  be  let  in. 
First  Serv.  Villains,  answer  you  so  the  lord  pro- 
tector? 
First  Warder.  [Within]  The  Lord  protect  him!  so 
we  answer  him: 
We  do  no  otherwise  than  we  are  will'd.  10 

Glou.  Who  willed  you?   or  whose  will  stands  but 
mine? 
There  's  none  protector  of  the  realm  but  I. 
Break  up  the  gates,  I  '11  be  your  warrantize: 

4.  "'tis  Gloucester";  Pope's  emendcation;  Ff.,  "'tis  Olostcr";  Steev- 
ens,  "it  is  Gloster"  &c.;  cp.  1.  G2  below,  where  Ff.  similarly  read 
"Oloster."—l.  G. 

13.  To  break  up  was  the  same  as  to  break  open.  "They  have  broken 
tip  and  have  passed  through  the  g at e."—Micah  ii.  13.  "He  would  have 
watched  and  would  not  have  suffered  his  home  to  be  broken  up." 
Matthew  xxiv.  43.  "The  lusty  Kentlshmen  hoping  on  more  friends 
brake  up  the  gayles"  (Hall's  Chronicle). — H.  N.  H. 

24 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  i.  Sc.  iii. 

Shall  I  be  flouted  thus  by  dunghill  grooms? 
[Gloucester's  men  rush  at  the  Tower  Gates,  and 
Woodvile  the  Lieutenant  speaks  within, 
Woodv.  What  noise  is  this?  what  traitors  have  we 

here? 
Glou.  Lieutenant,  is  it  you  whose  voice  I  hear? 
Open  the  gates ;  here  's  Gloucester  that  would 
enter. 
Woodv.  Have  patience,  noble  duke;  I  may  not 
open; 
The  Cardinal  of  Winchester  forbids: 
From  him  I  have  express  commandment         20 
That  thou  nor  none  of  thine  shall  be  let  in. 
Glou.  Faint-hearted  Woodvile,  prizest  him  'fore 
me? 
Arrogant  Winchester,  that  haughty  prelate, 
Whom  Henry,  our  late  sovereign,  ne'er  could 

brook  ? 
Thou  art  no  friend  to  God  or  to  the  king: 
Open  the  gates,  or  I  '11  shut  thee  out  shortly. 
Serving-men.  Open  the  gates  unto  the  lord  pro- 
tector, 
Or  we  '11  burst  them  open,  if  that  you  come  not 
quickly. 

Enter  to  the  Protector  at  the  Tower  Gates  Win- 
chester and  his  me7i  in  tawny  coats. 

Win.  How  now,  ambitious  Humphry!  what  means 
this? 

29.  "ambitious   Tluinphry";   F.   4,   "ambition";  "Tlumphry,"   Theo- 
bald's eraendaUon;  F.  1,  "Vrnpheir";  Ff.  2,  3,  4^  "Umpire."— I.  G. 

Slik-1-13  25 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Glou.  Peel'd  priest,  dost  thou  command  me  to  be 
shut  out?  30 

Win.  I  do,  thou  most  usurping  proditor. 
And  not  protector,  of  the  king  or  reahii. 

Glou.  Stand  back,  thou  manifest  conspirator. 
Thou  that  contrivedst  to  murder  our  dead  lord ; 
Thou  that  givest  whores  indulgences  to  sin: 
I  '11  canvass  thee  in  thy  broad  cardinal's  hat. 
If  thou  proceed  in  this  thy  insolence. 

JVin.  Nay,  stand  thou  back;  I  will  not  budge  a 
foot : 
This  be  Damascus,  be  thou  cursed  Cain, 
To  slay  thy  brother  Abel,  if  thou  wilt.  40 

Glou.  I  will  not  slay  thee,  but  I  '11  drive  thee  back: 

30.  "Peel'd,"  that  is,  "bald"  alluding  to  his  shaven  crown.  Piel'd 
and  pild,  or  pilled  are  only  various  ways  of  spelling  peeled. — H.  N.  H. 

34.  One  of  Gloster's  charges  against  the  bishop  runs  thus  in  Hol- 
inshed:  "My  said  lord  of  Glocester  affirmeth,  that  our  sovreigne 
lord  his  brother,  that  was  king  Henrie  the  fift,  told  him  on  a  time, 
that  when,  being  prince,  he  was  lodged  in  the  palace  of  West- 
minster, there  was  a  man  spied  and  taken  behind  a  hanging  of 
the  chamber;  the  which  man,  being  examined  upon  the  cause  of 
his  being  there  at  that  time,  confessed  that  he  was  there  by  the 
stirring  and  procuring  of  my  said  lord  of  Winchester,  ordeined  to 
have  slain  the  said  prince  there  in  his  bed." — H.  N.  H. 

35.  "hid  id  [fences  to  sin";  "the  public  stews  were  formerly  under 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  bishop  of  Winchester." — Pope. 

36.  Cannabasser,  French,  is  rendered  by  Cotgrave,  "to  canvass, 
or  curiously  to  examine,  search,  or  sift  out,  the  depth  of  a  matter." 
And  Skinner  says  the  same  word  was  used  for  "shaking  or  beat- 
ing hemp." — We  have  seen  in  a  former  note  that  Beaufort  was 
not  made  a  cardinal  till  1437,  which  was  two  years  after  the  rup- 
ture with  Gloster.— H.  N.   H. 

40.  The  allusion  here  is  well  explained  by  a  passage  in  The 
Travels  of  Sir  John  Mandeville:  "In  that  place  where  Damascus 
was  founded,  Kaj'n  sloughe  Abel  his  brother."  And  Ritson  has 
another  of  like  drift  from  the  Poly  chronic  on:  "Damascus  is  as 
much  as  to  say  shedding  of  blood;  for  there  Chaym  slew  Abel,  and 
hid  him  in  the  sand."— H.  N.  H. 

26 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  i.  Sc.  iii. 

Thy  scarlet  robes  as  a  child's  bearing-cloth 
I  '11  use  to  carry  thee  out  of  this  place. 
Win.  Do  what  thou  darest ;  I  beard  thee  to  thy  face. 
Gloii.  What!  am  I  dared  and  bearded  to  my  face? 
Draw,  men,  for  all  this  privileged  place ; 
Blue  coats  to  tawny  coats.    Priest,  beware  your 

beard ; 
I  mean  to  tug  it  and  to  cuff  you  soundly : 
Under  my  feet  I  stamp  thy  cardinal's  hat: 
In  spite  of  pope  or  dignities  of  church,  50 

Here  by  the  cheeks  I  '11  drag  thee  up  and  down. 
Win.  Gloucester,  thou  wilt  answer  this  before  the 

pope. 
Glou.  Winchester  goose,  I  cry,  a  rope !  a  rope ! 
Now  beat  them  hence;  why  do  you  let  them 

stay? 
Thee  I  '11  chase  hence,  thou  wolf  in  sheep's  ar- 
ray. 
Out,  tawny  coats!  out,  scarlet  hypocrite! 

Here  Gloucester's  men  heat  out  the  CardinaVs  men, 
and  enter  in  the  hurly-hurly  the  Mayor  of  Lon- 
don and  his  Officers. 

31  ay.  Fie,  lords!   that  you,  being  supreme  magis- 
trates, 

47.  It  appears  from  this,  that  Gloster's  servants  wore  blue  coats, 
and  Winchester's  tawny.  Such  was  the  usual  livery  of  servants 
in  the  Poet's  time,  and  long  before.  Stowe  informs  us  that  on  a 
certain  occasion  the  bishop  of  London  "was  attended  on  by  a 
goodly  company  of  gentlemen  in  tawny  coats." — H.  N.  H. 

S3.  A  "Wmchester  goose"  was  a  particular  stage  of  the  disease 
contracted  in  the  stews;  hence  Gloster  bestows  the  epithet  on  the 
bishop  in  derision  and  scorn.  A  person  affected  with  that  disease 
was  likewise  so  called. — H.  N.  H. 

Cant  term  for  a  harlot.— C.  H.  H. 

27 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Thus  contumeliously  should  break  the  peace! 

Glou.  Peace,  mayor!    thou  know'st  Uttle  of  my 
wrongs : 
Here  's  Beaufort,  that  regards  nor  God  nor 
king,  ^0 

Hath  here  distrain' d  the  Tower  to  his  use. 

Win.  Here  's  Gloucester,  a  foe  to  citizens. 

One  that  still  motions  war  and  never  peace, 

O'ercharging  your  free  purses  with  large  fines, 

That  seeks  to  overthrow  religion. 

Because  he  is  protector  of  the  realm. 

And  would  have  armor  here  out  of  the  Tower, 

To  crown  himself  king  and  supj)ress  the  prince. 

Glou.  I  will  not  answer  thee  with  words,  but  blows. 

\_Here  they  skirmish  again. 

May.  Nought  rests  for  me  in  this  tumultuous 

strife  '''0 

But  to  make  open  proclamation : 
Come,  officer ;  as  loud  as  e'er  thou  canst : 
Cry. 

Off.  All  manner  of  men  assembled  here  in  arms 
this  day  against  God's  peace  and  the  king's, 
we  charge  and  command  you,  in  his  highness' 
name,  to  repair  to  your  several  dwelling- 
places;  and  not  to  wear,  handle,  or  use  any 
sword,  weapon,  or  dagger,  henceforward, 
upon  pain  of  death. 

Glou.  Cardinal,  I  '11  be  no  breaker  of  the  law :    80 
But  we  shall  meet,  and  break  our  minds  at  large. 

61.  "d!i«<raiVd"=r  api^ropriated. — C.  H.  H. 

72.  "as    e'er    thou   canst;    Cry";   Ff.,    "as    e're    thou   canst,    cry"; 
Collier  MS.,  "as  thou  canst  cry." — I.  G. 

28 


KING  HENKY  VI  Act.  i.  Sc. 


111. 


Win.  Gloucester,  we  will  meet;  to  thy  cost,  be  sure: 
Thy  heart-blood  I  will  have  for  this  day's  work. 
May.  I  '11  call  for  clubs,  if  you  will  not  away. 
This  cardinal's  more  haughty  than  the  devil. 
Glou.  Mayor,  farewell:  thou  dost  but  what  thou 

mayst. 
Win.  Abominable  Gloucester,  guard  thy  Iiead ; 
For  I  intend  to  have  it  ere  long. 
[Ea^eunt,  severally,  Gloucester  and  Winchester 

with  their  Serving-men. 

May.  See  the  coast  clear'd,  and  then  we  will  depart. 

Good  God,  these  nobles  should  such  stomachs 

bear !  90 

I  myself  fight  not  once  in  forty  year. 

lEcceunt. 

82.  "cost,"  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "deare  cost."— I.  G. 

88.  "it  ere  long";  so  Ff.  1,  2;  Ff.  3,  4,  "it  e're  be  long";  Capell, 
"it,  ere  't  he  long";  Collier  MS.,  "it  of,  ere  long";  Orson,  "at  it."— 
I.  G. 

90.  stomachs,  warlike  sjnrits.  The  sentence  is  elliptical,  for  "(to 
think  that)  these  nobles,"  or  the  like.— C.  H.  H. 

91.  The  account  of  this  stormy  brawl,  as  given  in  the  old  chron- 
icles, runs  substantially  thus:  The  duke  being  absent  a  while,  the 
bishop  caused  the  Tower  to  be  garrisoned,  and  committed  to  the 
care  of  Richard  Woodville,  with  orders  "to  admit  no  one  more 
powerful  than  himself."  The  duke,  at  his  return,  demanding  lodg- 
ings in  the  Tower,  and  being  refused,  forthwith  ordered  the  mayor 
to  close  the  gates  of  the  city  against  the  bishop,  and  to  furnish 
him  with  five  hundred  horsemen,  that  he  might  visit  in  safety  the. 
young  king  at  Eltham.  The  next  morning  the  bishop's  retainers 
undertook  to  burst  open  the  gate  on  the  bridge,  and  placed  archers 
in  the  houses  on  each  side  of  the  road,  declaring  that,  as  their 
lord  was  excluded  from  the  city,  so  they  would  keep  the  duke 
from  leaving  it. — H.  N.  H. 


29 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 


Scene  IV 

Orleans. 

Enter,  on  the  walls,  a  Master  Gunner  and  his  Boy. 

M,  Gun,  Sirrah,  thou  know'st  how  Orleans  is  be- 
sieged, 

Aiid  how  the  Enghsh  have  the  suburbs  won. 
Boy.  Father,  I  know ;  and  oft  have  shot  at  them, 

Howe'er  unfortunate  I  miss'd  my  aim. 
M.  Gun.  But  now  thou  shalt  not.     Be  thou  ruled 
hy  me : 

Chief  master-gunner  am  I  of  this  town ; 

Something  I  must  do  to  procure  me  grace. 

The  prince's  espials  have  informed  me 

How   the   English,   in   the   suburbs    close   in- 
trench'd, 

Wont  through  a  secret  grate  of  iron  bars        10 

In  yonder  tower  to  overpeer  the  city, 

And  thence  discover  how  with  most  advantage 

They  may  vex  us  with  shot  or  with  assault. 

To  intercept  this  inconvenience, 

A  piece  of  ordnance  'gainst  it  I  have  placed; 

And  even  these  three  days  have  I  watch'd, 

If  I  could  see  them. 

Now  do  thou  watch,  for  I  can  stay  no  longer. 

If  thou  spy'st  any,  run  and  bring  me  word; 

10.  "won I";  the  old  copy  reads  went;  the  emendation  is  Mr,  Tyr- 
whitt's.  The  English  wont,  that  is,  are  accustomed,  to  overpeer  the 
city.  It  is  the  third  person  plural  of  the  old  verb  wont.  The  emen- 
dation is  fully  su]ijiorted  by  the  speech  in  the  Chronicles  on  which 
his  is  formed. — H.  N.  H. 

30 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  iv. 

And  thou  shalt  find  me  at  the  governor's.        20 

[Exit. 
Boy.  Father,  I  warrant  you ;  take  you  no  care ; 

I  '11  never  trouble  j^ou,  if  I  may  spy  them. 

[Exit. 

Enter,  on  the  turrets,  the  Lords  Salisbury  and  Tal- 
bot, Sir  William  Glansdale,  Sir  Thomas  Gar- 
grave,  and  others. 

Sal.  Talbot,  my  life,  mj-  joy,  again  return'd! 

How  wert  thou  handled  being  prisoner? 

Or  by  what  means  got'st  thou  to  be  released  ? 

Discourse,  I  prithee,  on  this  turret's  top. 
Tal.  The  Duke  of  Bedford  had  a  prisoner 

Call'd  the  brave  Lord  Ponton  de  Santrailles; 

For  him  was  I  exchanged  and  ransomed. 

But  with  a  baser  man  of  arms  by  far  30 

Once  in  contempt  they  would  have  barter'd  me : 

Which  I  disdaining  scorn'd,  and  craved  death 

Rather  than  I  would  be  so  vile-esteem'd. 

In  fine,  redeem'd  I  was  as  I  desired. 

22.  "on  the  turrets,"  Ff.,  "in  an  -upper  chamber  of  a  tower"  (Ma- 
lone).— I.  G. 

27.  "Duke";  Theobald's  emendation   of  "Earle"  of  the  Ff.— I.   G. 

29.  Here  again  llie  poet  transposes  the  order  of  events.  The  affair 
in  the  Tower  at  Orleans  which  ended  in  the  death  of  Salisbury  took 
place  Octol)er  33,  U28.  The  capture  of  Talbot  hy  the  French  was 
at  the  Battle  of  Patav,  June  18,  1429;  of  Santrailles  by  the  English, 
in  1431.— H.  N.  H. 

33.  "so  vile-esteem'd";  Pope,  "so  vilde  esteem'd";  Ff.,  "so  pil'd 
esteem'd";  Capell,  "so  pill'd  esteem'd";  Mason,  "so  ill-esteemed,"  &c. 
—I.  G. 

The  old  copy  reads  "pil'd  esteem'd" — as  vile  was  frequently 
spelled  vild  liy  Shakespeare  and  others  there  can  hardly  be  a  doubt 
that  it  was  the  word. — H.  N.  H. 

81 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

But,  O!  the  treacherous  Fastolfe  wounds  my 

heart, 

Whom  with  my  bare  fists  I  would  execute, 

If  I  now  had  him  brought  into  my  power. 

Sal.  Yet  tell'st  thou  not  how  thou  wert  entertain'd. 

TaL  With    scoiFs   and   scorns   and   contumehous 

taunts. 
In  open  market-place  produced  they  me,         40 
To  be  a  public  spectacle  to  all : 
Here,  said  they,  is  the  terror  of  the  French, 
The  scarecrow  that  affrights  our  children  so. 
Then  broke  I  from  the  officers  that  led  me. 
And  wdth  my  nails  digg'd  stones  out  of  the 

ground. 
To  hurl  at  the  beholders  of  my  shame : 
My  grisly  countenance  made  others  fly; 
None  durst  come  near  for  fear  of  sudden  death. 
In  iron  w^alls  they  deem'd  me  not  secure; 
So  great  fear  of  my  name  'mongst  them  was 

spread  50 

That  they  supposed  I  could  rend  bars  of  steel, 
And  spurn  in  pieces  posts  of  adamant : 
Wherefore  a  guard  of  chosen  shot  I  had. 
That  walk'd  about  me  every  minute  while; 
And  if  I  did  but  stir  out  of  my  bed, 
Ready  they  w^ere  to  shoot  me  to  the  heart. 

43.  "This  man  [TalbotJ  was  to  the  French  people  a  very  scourge 
and  a  daily  terror,  insomuch  that  as  his  person  was  fearful  and 
terrible  to  his  adversaries  present,  so  his  name  and  fame  was  spite- 
ful and  dreadful  to  the  common  people  absent;  insomuch  that 
women  in  France,  to  feare  their  yong  children,  would  crye  the 
Talbot  Cometh"  (HaU's  Chronicle) .—U.  N.  H. 

63.  "8hot"z=z  marksman,  "shots."— C.  H.  H. 

S2 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  iv. 

Enter  the  Boy  with  a  linstock. 

Sal.  I  grieve  to  hear  what  torments  you  endured, 
But  we  will  be  revenged  sufficiently. 
Now  it  is  supper-time  in  Orleans; 
Here,  through  this  grate,  I  count  each  one,    ^^ 
And  view  the  Frenchmen  how  they  fortify: 
Let  us  look  in ;  the  sight  will  much  delight  thee. 
Sir  Thomas  Gargrave,  and  Sir  William  Glans- 

dale. 
Let  me  have  your  express  opinions 
Where  is  best  place  to  make  our  battery  next. 

Gar.  I  think,  at  the  north  gate;  for  there  stand 
lords. 

Glan.  And  I,  here,  at  the  bulwark  of  the  bridge. 

Tal.  For  aught  I  see,  this  city  must  be  f  amish'd. 
Or  with  light  skirmishes  enfeebled. 
[Here  they  shoot.     Salisbury  and  Gargrave  fall. 

Sal.  O  Lord,  have  mercy  on  us,  wretched  sin- 
ners !  ^^ 

Gar.  O  Lord,  have  mercy  on  me,  wof  ul  man ! 

Tal.  What  chance  is  this  tliat  suddenly  hath  cross'd 
us? 
Speak,  Salisbury :  at  least,  if  thou  canst  speak : 
How  farest  thou,  mirror  of  all  martial  men? 
One  of  thy  eyes  and  thy  cheek's  side  struck  off! 
Accursed  tower !  accursed  fatal  hand 
That  hath  contrived  this  woful  tragedy! 
In  thirteen  battles  Salisbury  o'ercame; 
Henry  the  Fifth  he  first  train'd  to  the  wars; 
Whilst  any  trump  did  sound,  or  drum  struck 
up,       *  BO 

33 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

His  sword  did  ne'er  leave  striking  in  the  field. 
Yet  livest  thou,  Salisbury?  though  thy  speech 

doth  fail, 
One  ej^e  thou  hast,  to  look  to  heaven  for  grace: 
The  sun  with  one  eye  vieweth  all  the  world. 
Heaven,  be  thou  gracious  to  none  alive, 
If  Salisbury  wants  mercy  at  thy  hands! 
Bear  hence  his  body ;  I  will  help  to  bury  it. 
Sir  Thomas  Gargrave,  hast  thou  any  life? 
Speak  unto  Talbot;  nay,  look  up  to  him. 
Salisbury,  cheer  thy  spirit  with  this  comfort ;    90 
Thou  shalt  not  die  whiles — 
He  beckons  with  his  hand  and  smiles  on  me. 
As  who  should  say  'When  I  am  dead  and  gone. 
Remember  to  avenge  me  on  the  French.' 
Plantagenet,  I  will;  and  like  thee,  Nero, 

95.  This  looks  as  if  the  Poet  thought  Salisbury's  name  Plantagenet, 
while  in  fact  it  was  Thomas  Montacute.  Holinshed  gives  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  him:  "This  earle  was  the  man  at  that  time, 
by  whose  wit,  strength,  and  policie,  the  English  name  was  much 
terrible  to  the  French;  which  of  himselfe  might  both  appoint, 
command,  and  doo  all  things  in  manner  at  his  pleasure;  for  suer- 
lie  he  was  both  painefull,  diligent,  and  ready  to  withstand  all  dan- 
gerous chances  that  were  in  hand,  prompt  in  counsell,  and  of  cour- 
age invincible;  so  that  in  no  one  man  men  put  more  trust,  nor  any 
singular  person  Sv'an  the  harts  so  much  of  all  men." — The  main 
event  of  this  scene  is  thus  related  by  the  same  writer:  "In  the 
tower  that  was  taken  at  the  bridge  end,  there  was  an  high  cham- 
ber, having  a  grate  full  of  barres  of  iron,  by  the  which  a  man 
might  looke  all  the  length  of  the  bridge  into  the  citie;  at  which 
grate  manie  of  the  cheefe  capteins  stood  manie  times,  viewing 
the  citie,  and  devising  in  what  place  it  was  best  to  give  the  as- 
sault. They  within  the  citie  well  perceived  this  tooting  hole,  and 
laid  a  peece  of  ordinance  directlie  against  the  window.  It  so 
chanced,  that  the  nine  and  fiftith  daie  after  the  siege  was  laid  the 
earle  of  Salisburie,  sir  Thomas  Gargrave,  and  William  Glasdale, 
with  diverse  other  went  into  the  said  tower,  and  so  into  the  high 
chamber,  and  looked  out   at  the   grate,   and   within   a  short  space 

34 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  iv. 

Play  on  the  lute,  beholding  the  towns  burn ;  , 
Wretched  shall  France  be  only  in  thy  name. 
[Here  an  alaruin,  and  it  thunders  and  lightens. 
What  stir  is  this?  what  tumult 's  in  the  heavens? 
Whence  cometh  this  alarum,  and  the  noise? 

E titer  a  Messenger. 

3Iess.  My  lord,  my  lord,  the  French  have  gather'd 
head:  100 

The  Dauphin,  with  one  Joan  la  Pucelle  join'd, 

A  holy  prophetess  new  risen  up, 

Is  come  with  a  great  power  to  raise  the  siege. 

[Here  Salisbury  lifteth  himself  up  and  groans. 
Tal.  Hear,  hear  how  dying  Salisbury  doth  groan! 

It  irks  his  heart  he  cannot  be  revenged. 

Frenchmen,  I  '11  be  a  Salisbury  to  you: 

Pucelle  or  puzzel,  dolphin  or  dogfish, 

the  Sonne  of  the  maister-gunner,  perceiving  men  looking  out  at 
the  window,  tooke  his  match,  as  his  father  had  taught  him,  who 
was  gone  downe  to  dinner,  and  fired  the  gun;  the  shot  whereof 
brake  and  shivered  the  iron  barres  of  the  grate,  so  that  one  of 
the  same  bars  strake  the  earle  so  violentlie  on  the  head,  that  it 
stroke  awaie  one  of  his  eies  and  the  side  of  his  cheeke.  Sir  Thomas 
Gargrave  was  likewise  striken,  and  died  within  two  daies.  The 
earle  was  conveied  to  Meun  on  Loire,  where  after  eight  daies  he 
likewise  departed  this  world." — H.  N.  11. 

95.  "like  thee,  Nero,"  Malone;  F.  1,  "like  thee";  F.  2,  "Nero  like 
will";  Ff.  3,  4,  "Nero  like,  will";  Pope,  "Nero-like,"  &c.— I.  G. 

101.  "Joan  la  Pucelle";  Ff.,  "Joan  de  Ptizel"  (and  elsewhere).— 
I.  G. 

107.  "Puzzel"  means  a  dirt}i  wench  or  a  drab;  "from  puzza,  that  is, 
malus  foetor,"  says  Minsheu.  Thus  in  Steevens's  Apology  for  Herod- 
otus, 1G07:  "Some  filthy  queans,  especially  our  puzzels  of  Paris, 
use  this  theft."  And  in"  Stubhe's  Anatomy  of  Abuses,  1595:  "Nor 
yet  any  droye  nor  puzzel  in  the  country  but  will  carry  a  nosegay  in 
her  hand."  It  should  be  remembered  that  in  the  Poet's  time 
dauphin  was  always  written  dolphin. — H.  X.  H. 

35 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Your  hearts  I  '11  stamp  out  with  my  horse's 
heels, 

And  make  a  quagmire  of  your  mingled  brains. 

Convey  me  Salisbury  into  his  tent,  HO 

And  then  we  '11  try  what  these  dastard  French- 
men dare.  \_Alarum.     ExewiU 


Scene  V 

Tlie  same. 

Here  an  alarum  again:  and  Talbot  pursuetli  the 
Dauphin,  and  driveth  hiin:  then  enter  Joan  La 
Pucelle,  driving  Englishmen  before  her^  and 
exit  after  them:  then  re-enter  Talbot. 

Tal.  Where  is  my  strength,   my  valor,  and  my 
force? 
Our  English  troops  retire,  I  cannot  stay  them : 
A  woman  clad  in  armor  chaseth  them. 

Re-enter  La  Pucelle. 

Here,  here  she  comes.     I  '11  have  a  bout  with 

thee; 
Devil  or  devil's  dam,  I  '11  conjure  thee: 
Blood  will  I  draw  on  thee,  thou  art  a  witch, 
And  straightway  give  thy  soul  to  him  thou 

servest. 

6.  "Bhod  vnll  I  dnno  on  thee,  thou  art  a  xcitch";  "the  superstition 
of  those  times  taught  that  he  that  could  draw  the  witch's  blood  was 
free  from  her  power"  (Johnson). — I.  G. 

3Q 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  v. 

Puc.  Come,  come,  'tis  only  I  that  must  disgrace 
thee. 

[Here  they  fight. 
Tal.  Heavens,  can  you  sufFei*  hell  so  to  prevail? 
My  breast  I  '11  burst  with  straining  of  my  cour- 
age, 10 
Ajud  from  my  shoulders  crack  my  arms  asunder. 
But  I  will  chastise  this  high-minded  strumpet. 

[They  fight  again. 
Puc.  Talbot,  farewell ;  thy  hour  is  not  yet  come : 
I  must  go  victual  Orleans  forthwith. 

\_A  short  alarum:  then  enter  the  town 

with  soldiers. 
O'ertake  me,  if  thou  canst;  I  scorn  thy  strength. 
Go,  go,  cheer  up  thy  hungry-starved  men; 
Help  Salisbury  to  make  his  testament: 
This  day  is  ours,  as  many  more  shall  be.  lExit. 
Tal.  My  thoughts  are  whirled  like  a  potter's  wheel ; 
I  know  not  where  I  am,  nor  what  I  do ;  20 

A  witch,  by  fear,  not  force,  like  Hannibal, 
Drives  back  our  troops  and  conquers  as  she  lists : 
So  bees  with  smoke  and  doves  with  noisome 

stench 
Are  from  their  hives  and  houses  driven  away. 
They  call'd  us  for  our  fierceness  English  dogs; 
Now,  like  to  whelps,  we  crying  run  away. 

[A  short  alarum. 
Hark,  countiymen!  eitlier  renew  the  fight. 
Or  tear  the  lions  out  of  England's  coat; 

21.  "like  Hannibal,"  who,  in  order  to  escape,  devised  the  stratagem 
of  fixing  lighted  twigs  to  the  horns  of  oxen.  (C^J.  Liw,  xxii.  16.)  — 
I.  G. 

37 


Act  I.  Sc.  vi.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Renounce  your  soil,  give  sheep  in  lions'  stead: 
Sheep  run  not  half  so  treacherous  from  the 
wolf,  30 

Or  horse  or  oxen  from  the  leopard, 
As  you  fly  from  your  oft-subdued  slaves. 

[Alarum.     Here  another  skirmish. 
It  will  not  be:  retire  into  your  trenches: 
You  all  consented  unto  Salisbury's  death, 
For  none  would  strike  a  stroke  in  his  revenge. 
Pucelle  is  enter'd  into  Orleans, 
In  spite  of  us  or  aught  that  we  could  do. 
O,  would  I  were  to  die  with  Salisbury! 
The  shame  hereof  will  make  me  hide  my  head. 
[Eojit  Talbot.     Alarum;  retreat;  flourish. 


Scene  VI 

The  same. 

Enter,  on  the  walls.  La  Pucelle,  Charles,  Reignier, 
Alengon,  and  Soldiers. 

Puc.  Advance  our  waving  colors  on  the  walls; 
Rescued  is  Orleans  from  the  English: 
Thus  Joan  la  Pucelle  hath  perf  orm'd  her  word, 

30.  "treacherous  from";  so  Ff.  3,  4;  Ff.  1,  2,  "trecherous  from"; 
Pope,  "lim'rous  from." — I.  G. 

"treacherous."  So  in  the  old  copies,  but  commonly  changed  to 
tim,orons,  following  Pope.  The  change  is  apt  enough,  but  needless; 
the  meaning  being,  no  doubt,  that  sheep  are  not  to  be  trusted  or 
relied  on,  because  they  are  cowardly. — H.  N.  H. 

9.  "EiKjUsh"  (trisyllabic),  so  F.  i;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "English  wolves"; 
Staunton,  "English  dogs." — I.  G. 

38 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  vL 

Char.  Divinest  creature,  Astrasa's  daughter. 
How  shall  I  honor  thee  for  this  success  ? 
Thy  promises  are  Hke  Adonis'  gardens 
That  one  day  bloom'd  and  fruitful  were  the 

next. 
France,  triumph  in  thy  glorious  prophetess! 
Recover'd  is  the  town  of  Orleans: 
More  blessed  hap  did  ne'er  befall  our  state.       10 

Reig.  Why  ring  not  out  the  bells  aloud  throughout 
the  town? 
Dauphin,  command  the  citizens  make  bonfires 
And  feast  and  banquet  in  the  open  streets. 
To  celebrate  the  joy  that  God  hath  given  us. 

Alert.  All  France  will  be  replete  with  mirth  and 

When  they  shall  hear  how  we  have  play'd  the 
men. 
Char.  'Tis  Joan,  not  we,  by  whom  the  day  is  won ; 
For  which  I  will  divide  my  crown  with  her. 
And  all  the  priests  and  friars  in  my  realm 
Shall  in  procession  sing  her  endless  praise.      20 
A  statelier  pj'^ramis  to  her  I  '11  rear 
Than  Rhodope's  or  IMemphis'  ever  was; 

4.  "Astrcva,"  daughter  of  Zeus  and  Themis,  hence  goddess  of  Jus- 
tice (and  so  of  the  observance  of  promises). — C.  H.  H. 

6.  "Adonis'  gardens."  "The  proverb  alhidcd  to  seems  always  to 
have  been  used  in  a  bad  sense,  for  things  which  make  a  fair  show 
for  a  few  days,  and  then  wither  away;  but  the  author  of  this  play, 
desirous  of  maliing  a  show  of  his  learning,  without  considering  its 
propriety,  has  made  the  Dauphin  apply  it  as  an  encomium"  (Blake- 
way).     Cp.  Faerie  Queene,  III,  vi.  29;  F,  1,  "Garden."— I.  G. 

22.  "Than  Rhodope's  or  Memphis',"  Hanmer's  emendation;  Ff. 
"or  Memphis";  Capell's  "of  Memphis"  has  been  generally  adopted. 
Pliny,   writing   of   the   pyramids    near    Memphis,   records   that   "the 

89 


Act  I.  Sc.  vi.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

In  memory  of  her  when  she  is  dead, 

Her  ashes,  in  an  urn  more  precious 

Than  the  rieh-jewel'd  coffer  of  Darius, 

Transported  shall  be  at  high  festivals 

Before  the  kings  and  queens  of  France. 

No  longer  on  Saint  Denis  will  we  cry, 

But  Joan  la  Pucelle  shall  be  France's  saint. 

Come  in,  and  let  us  banquet  royally,  30 

After  this  golden  day  of  victory. 

[Flourish.     Exeunt. 

fairest  and  most  commended  for  workmanship  was  built  at  tlie  cost 
and  charges  of  one  Rhodope,  a  verie  strumpet." — I.  G. 

25.  "the  rich-jewel'd  cofer  of  Darins";  referred  to  by  Plutarch 
in  his  Life  of  Alexander,  as  the  "preciousest  thing,  and  the  richest 
that  was  gotten  of  all  spoyls  and  riches,  taken  at  the  overthrow  of 
Darius  ...  he  said  he  would  put  the  Iliads  of  Homer  into  it, 
as  the  worthiest  thing." — I.  G. 


40 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  li.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  SECOND 

Scene  I 

Before  Orleans. 
Enter  a  Sergeant  of  a  hand,  with  two  Sentinels. 

Serg.  Sirs,  take  your  places  and  be  vigilant : 
If  any  noise  or  soldier  you  perceive 
Near  to  the  walls,  by  some  apparent  sign 
Let  us  have  knowledge  at  the  court  of  guard. 

First.  Sent.  Sergeant,  you  shall.  [E^^it  Sergeant. 
Thus  are  poor  servitors. 
When  others  sleep  upon  their  quiet  beds, 
Constrain'd  to  watch  in  darkness,  rain  and  cold. 

Enter  Talbot,  Bedford,  Burgundy,  and  forces,  with 
scaling-ladders,  their  drums  beating  a  dead 
march. 

Tal.  Lord  Regent,  and  redoubted  Burgundy, 

8.  "redoubted   Burgundy";   Duke   of   Burgundy,   surnamed    Philip 
the  Good.— I.   G. 

He  succeeded  to  the  title  in  1419,  at  which  time  lu's  father  wa 
murdered.  The  murder  is  one  of  the  darkest  spots  in  that  land 
of  perfidy  and  blood.  In  pursuance  of  a  special  arrangement,  he 
went  to  confer  with  the  Dauphin  at  Montereau  upon  Yonne.  At  his 
coming  he  found  that  three  barriers,  each  having  a  gate,  had  been 
drawn  across  the  bridge,  and  was  told  tliat  the  Dauphin  had  been 
waiting  for  him  more  than  an  hour.  Having  with  twelve  attendants 
passed  two  of  the  gates,  which  were  quickly  locked  behind  him,  he 

41 


Act  II.  Sc.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

By  whose  approach  the  regions  of  Ai'tois, 
Wallon  and  Picardy  are  friends  to  us,  10 

This  happy  night  the  Frenchmen  are  secure, 
Having  all  day  caroused  and  banqueted: 
Embrace  we  then  this  opportunity, 
As  fitting  best  to  quittance  their  deceit 
Contrived  by  art  and  baleful  sorcery. 

Bed.  Coward  of  France!  how  much  he  wrongs  his 
fame. 
Despairing  of  his  own  arm's  fortitude. 
To  join  with  witches  and  the  help  of  hell! 

Bur.  Traitors  have  never  other  company. 

But  what 's  that  Pucelle  whom  they  term  so 
pure?  20 

Tal.  A  maid,  they  say. 

Bed.  A  maid!  and  be  so  martial! 

Bu?\  Praj^  God  she  prove  not  masculine  ere  long. 
If  underneath  the  standard  of  the  French 
She  carry  armor  as  she  hath  begun. 

there  bent  his  knee  to  the  Dauphin,  who  had  come  forth  to  meet 
him;  and,  while  addressing  him  in  that  posture,  was  struck  in  the 
face  with  an  axe  by  one  of  the  Dauphin's  servants,  and  before  he 
could  make  any  defense,  a  multitude  of  wounds  laid  him  dead  on 
the  ground.  Of  his  attendants  one  escaped,  another  was  slain,  and 
the  rest  remained  as  captives  in  the  hands  of  the  assassins.  This 
rare  piece  of  inhumanity  had  the  effect  of  throwing  his  son  into 
close  alliance  with  England,  which  was  further  strengthened  and 
prolonged  by  the  marriage  of  Bedford  with  his  sister  in  1423.  Her 
death,  which  occurred  in  1432,  greatly  loosened  the  bonds  between 
her  brother  and  the  regent.  At  length,  under  the  mediation  of  the 
pope,  a  congress  of  English,  French,  and  Burgundian  ambassadors 
was  held  at  Arras  in  1435,  which  ended  in  a  reconciliation  of  Bur- 
gundy and  the  Dauphin,  who  had  then  succeeded  to  the  crown  of 
France.  The  Poet  represents  the  detaching  of  Burgundy  from  Eng- 
land to  have  been  brought  about  by  Joan  of  Arc;  for  which  tlie 
only  historical  ground  is,  that  Joan  wrote  a  letter  to  the  duke  urging 
upon  him  the  course  which  he  afterwards  took. — H.  N.  H. 

42 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  n.  Sc.  L 

Tal.  Well,  let   them   practice   and   converse   with 
spirits : 
God  is  our  fortress,  in  whose  conquering  name 
Let  us  resolve  to  scale  their  flinty  bulwarks. 
Bed.  Ascend,  brave  Talbot ;  we  will  follow  thee. 
Tal.  Not  all  together :  better  far,  I  guess, 
That  we  do  make  our  entrance  several 

ways ;  30 

That,  if  it  chance  the  one  of  us  do  fail, 
The  other  yet  may  rise  against  their  force. 
Bed.  Agreed:  I  '11  to  yond  corner. 
Bur.  Aiid  I  to  tliis. 

Tal.  And  here  will  Talbot  mount,  or  make  his 
grave. 
Now,  Salisbury,  for  thee,  and  for  the  right 
Of  English  Henry,  shall  this  night  appear 
How  much  in  duty  I  am  bound  to  both. 
Sent.  Arm!  arm!  the  enemy  doth  make  assault! 

[Cry:  'St  George;  'A  Talbot: 

The  French  leap  over  the  walls  in  their  shirts.  En- 
ter, several  ways,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  Alen- 
f07ij  and  Reignier,  half  ready,  and  half  un- 
ready. 

Alen.  How  now,  my  lords!  what,  all  unready  so? 

29.  "all  together";  Rowe's  emendation  of  "altogether"  of  Ff. — 
I.  G. 

39,  "Unreadg"  is  undressed.  Thus  in  Chapman's  Monsieur  U'Olive, 
1606:  "You  are  not  going  to  bed;  I  see  you  are  not  yet  unready." 
A  stage  direction  in  The  Two  Maids  of  Morcclock,  1609,  says, 
"Enter  James  unready,  in  his  nightcap,  gartcrless."  So  in  Cotgrave: 
"Deshcihiller,  to  unclothe,  make  unreddie,  put  or  take  off  clotlies."— 
H.  N.  H. 

43 


Act  11.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Bast.  Unready!  aye,  and  glad  we  'scaped  so 

well.  40 

Reig.  'Twas  time,  I  trow,  to  wake  and  leave  our 
beds, 
Hearing  alarums  at  our  chamber-doors. 

Alen.  Of  all  exploits  since  first  I  follow'd  arms, 
Ne'er  heard  I  of  a  warlike  enterprise 
More  venturous  or  desperate  than  this. 

Bast.  I  think  this  Talbot  be  a  fiend  of  hell. 

Reig.  If  not  of  hell,  the  heavens,  sure,  favor  him. 

Alen.  Here  cometh  Charles:  I  marvel  how  he  sped. 

Bast.  Tut,  holy  Joan  was  his  defensive  guard. 

Enter  Charles  and  La  Pucelle, 

Char.  Is  this  thy  cunning,  thou  deceitful 

dame?  50 

Didst  thou  at  first,  to  flatter  us  withal, 
Make  us  partakers  of  a  httle  gain. 
That  now  our  loss  might  be  ten  times  so  much? 

Puc.  Wherefore    is    Charles    impatient    with    his 
friend? 
At  all  times  will  you  have  my  power  alike  ? 
Sleeping  or  waking  must  I  still  prevail, 
Or  will  you  blame  and  lay  the  fault  on  me? 
Improvident    soldiers!   had   your   watch    been 

good. 
This  sudden  mischief  never  could  have  f  all'n. 

Char.  Duke  of  Alen9on,  this  was  your  default,     60 
That,  being  captain  of  the  watch  to-night. 
Did  look  no  better  to  that  weighty  charge. 

40.  "ay,  and  glad";  Ff.,  "/  and  glad";  Pope,  "1  am  glad."— I.  G. 

44 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 

Alen.  Had  all  your  quarters  been  as  safely  kept 
As  that  ^^'llereof  I  had  the  government, 
We  had  not  been  thus  shamefully  surprised. 

Bast.  JNIine  was  secure. 

Reig.  And  so  was  mine,  my  lord. 

Char.  And,  for  myself,  most  part  of  all  this  night, 
Within  her  quarter  and  mine  own  precinct 
I  was  employ'd  in  passing  to  and  fro, 
About  relieving  of  the  sentinels :  ''^ 

Then  how  or  which  way  should  they  first  break 
in? 

P21C.  Question,  my  lords,  no  further  of  the  case, 
How  or  which  way:  'tis  sure  they  found  some 

place 
But  weakly   guarded,   where   the  breach  was 

made. 
And  now  there  rests  no  other  shift  but  this; 
To  gather  our  soldiers,  scatter'd  and  dispersed, 
And  lay  new  platforms  to  endamage  them. 

Alarum.     Enter  an  English  Soldier,  crying  'A 
Talbot!   a   Talbot!'     They   fly,    leaving   their 
clothes  behind. 

Sold.  I  '11  be  so  bold  to  take  what  they  have  left. 
The  cry  of  Talbot  serves  me  for  a  sword; 
For  I  have  loaden  me  with  many  spoils,        80 
Using  no  other  weapon  but  his  name.         [Exit. 

63.  "your  quarters";  "yovr,"  so  F.  1.;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "our";  "quar- 
ters"; so  Ff.  1,  2,  3;  F.  4,  "Quarter."— I.  G. 

77.  Plans  or  schemes.  The  'plot  of  a  play  was  formerly  called  the 
platform.— H.  N.   H. 

81.  This  retakinp:  of  Orleans  is  a  fiction  of  the  Poet's.  In  fact, 
little   advance   was   made   towards   taking  the   city   after  the   death 

45 


Act  11.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 


Scene  II 

Orleans.     Witliin  the  totvn. 

Enter  Talbot^  Bedford^  Burgundy^  a  Captain,  and 

others. 

Bed.  The  day  begins  to  break,  and  night  is  fled, 
Whose  pitch}?-  mantle  over-veil'd  the  earth. 
Here  sound  retreat,  and  cease  our  hot  pursuit. 

[Retreat  sounded. 

Tal.  Bring  forth  the  body  of  old  Salisbury, 
And  here  advance  it  in  the  market-j)lace. 
The  middle  center  of  this  cursed  town. 
Now  have  I  paid  my  vow  unto  liis  soul; 
For  every  drop  of  blood  was  drawn  from  him 
There  hath  at  least  five  Frenchmen  died  to- 
night. 
Aiid  that  hereafter  ages  may  behold  10 

What  ruin  happen'd  in  revenge  of  him, 
Within  their  chief  est  temple  I'll  erect 
A  tomb,  wherein  his  corpse  shall  be  interr'd: 
Upon  the  which,  that  every  one  may  read, 

of  Salisbury;  though,  according  to  Holinshed,  Talbot,  Fastolfe, 
and  others,  "caused  bastilles  to  be  made  round  about  the  citie, 
and  left  nothing  unattempted,  that  might  advance  their  purpose." 
Thenceforth  the  siege  was  turned  into  a  blockade,  but  supplies  and 
reinforcements  were  still  received  into  the  place.  We  are  told  that 
on  one  occasion  the  French,  emboldened  by  success,  made  an  assault 
on  the  bastille  that  was  kept  by  Talbot;  who  "issued  foorth  against 
them,  and  gave  them  so  sharp  an  incounter,  that  they,  not  able  to 
withstand  his  puissance,  fled  like  sheepe  before  the  woolfe  again  into 
the  citie."  After  "the  maid"  and  her  convoy  entered  the  town, 
which  was  in  April,  1429,  the  English  did  not  stir  from  their  en- 
trenchments; and  in  May  they  gave  over  and  withdrew. — H.  N.  H. 

46 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  ii.  Sc.  u. 

Shall  be  engraved  the  sack  of  Orleans, 

The  treacherous  manner  of  his  mournful  death 

And  what  a  terror  he  had  been  to  France. 

But,  lords,  m  all  our  bloody  massacre, 

I  muse  we  met  not  with  the  Dauphin's  grace, 

His  new-come  champion,  virtuous  Joan  of 

Ai-c,  20 

Nor  any  of  his  false  confederates. 
Bed.  'Tis  thought,  Lord  Talbot,  when  the  fight  be- 
gan, 
Roused  on  the  sudden  from  their  drowsy  beds, 
They  did  amongst  the  troops  of  armed  men 
Leap  o'er  the  walls  for  refuge  in  the  field. 
Bur.  Myself,  as  far  as  I  could  well  discern 
For  smoke  and  dusky  vapors  of  the  night. 
Am  sure  I  scared  the  Dauphin  and  his  trull. 
When  arm  in  arm  they  both  came  swiftly  run- 
ning. 
Like  to  a  pair  of  loving  turtle-doves  30 

That  could  not  hve  asunder  day  or  night. 
After  that  things  are  set  in  order  here, 
We  '11  follow  them  with  all  the  power  we  have. 

Filter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  All  hail,  my  lords !     Which  of  this  princely 
train 
Call  ye  the  warlike  Talbot,  for  his  acts 
So   much    applauded    through    the    realm    of 
France? 

19.  "wMse"=  marvel.— H.   X.   H. 

20.  "Arc,"  Rowe's  emendation  of  "Acre"  of  Ff.— I.  G. 


47 


Act  11.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PAKT  OF 

Tal.  Here  is  the  Talbot:  who  would  speak  with 
him? 

Mess.  The  virtuous  lady,  Countess  of  Auvergne, 
With  modesty  admiring  thy  renown, 
By  me  entreats,  great  lord,  thou  wouldst  vouch- 
safe 40 
To  visit  her  poor  castle  where  she  lies. 
That  she  may  boast  she  hath  beheld  the  man 
Whose  glory  fills  the  world  with  loud  report. 

Bur.  Is  it  even  so?     Nay,  then,  I  see  our  wars 
Will  turn  unto  a  peaceful  comic  sport. 
When  ladies  crave  to  be  encounter'd  with. 
You  may  not,  my  lord,  despise  her  gentle  suit. 

Tal.  Ne'er  trust  me  then ;  for  when  a  world  of  men 
Could  not  prevail  with  ^11  their  oratory, 
Yet  hath  a  woman's  kindness  over-ruled:        50 
And  therefore  tell  her  I  return  great  thanks, 
And  in  submission  will  attend  on  her. 
Will  not  your  honors  bear  me  company? 

Bed.  No,  truly;  it  is  more  than  manners  will: 
And  I  have  heard  it  said,  unbidden  guests 
Are  often  welcomest  when  they  are  gone. 

Tal.  Well  then,  alone,  since  there  's  no  remedy, 
I  mean  to  prove  this  lady's  courtesy. 
Come  hither,  captain.    [Whispers.^    You  per- 
ceive my  mind  ? 

Capt.  I  do,  my  lord,  and  mean  accordingly.  60 

[^Exeunt. 

38.  "Auvergne";  Rowe's  emendation  of  F.  1,  "Ouergne";  Ff.  2,  3, 
"Auergne";  F.  4,  "Avergne." — I.  G. 
41.  "Lies"  that  is,  where  she  dwells. — H.  N.  H. 


48 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  iii. 


Scene  III 

Auvergne.     TJie  Countess's  castle. 

Enter  the  Countess  and  her  Porter. 

Count.  Porter,  remember  what  I  gave  in  charge; 
And  when  you  have  done  so,  bring  the  keys  to 
me. 
Port.  Madam,  I  will.  [Eccit, 

Count.  The  plot  is  laid :  if  all  things  fall  out  right, 
I  shall  as  famous  be  by  this  exploit 
As  Scythian  Tomyris  by  Cyrus'  death. 
Great  is  the  rumor  of  this  dreadful  knight. 
And  his  achievements  of  no  less  account : 
Fain  would  mine  eyes  be  witness  with  mine  ears. 
To  give  their  censure  of  these  rare  reports.      10 

Enter  Messenger  and  Talbot. 

Mess.  Madam, 

According  as  your  ladyship  desired, 

By  message  craved,  so  is  Lord  Talbot  come. 

Count.  And   he  is   welcome.     What!  is   this  the 
man? 

Mess.  Madam,  it  is. 

Count.  Is  this  the  scourge  of  France? 

Is  this  the  Talbot,  so  much  fear'd  abroad 
That  with  his  name  the  mothers  still  their  babes  ? 
I  see  report  is  fabulous  and  false: 

6.  "Tomyris,"  queen  of  the  Scythian  tribe  of  the  Massagetae,  who 
defeated  Cyrus'  invading  force,  and  captured  and  slew  himself  (u.c. 
529).— C.  H.  H. 

Shk-1-14  40 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

I  thought  I  should  have  seen  some  Hercules, 
A  second  Hector,  for  his  grim  aspect,  20 

And  large  proportion  of  his  strong-knit  limbs. 
Alas,  this  is  a  cliild,  a  silly  dwarf! 
It  cannot  be  this  weak  and  writhled  shrimp 
Should  strike  such  terror  to  his  enemies. 

Tal.  iSIadam,  I  have  been  bold  to  trouble  you; 
But  since  3''0ur  ladyship  is  not  at  leisure, 
I  '11  sort  some  other  time  to  visit  you. 

Count.  What  means  he  now ?     Go  ask  him  whither 
he  goes. 

Mess.  Stay,  my  Lord  Talbot;  for  my  lady  craves 
To   know   the   cause   of   your   abrupt    depar- 
ture. 30 

Tal.  Marry,  for  that  she  's  in  a  wrong  belief, 
I  go  to  certify  her  Talbot 's  here. 

Re-enter  Porter  with  keys. 

Count.  If  thou  be  he,  then  art  thou  prisoner. 

Tal.  Prisoner!  to  whom? 

Count.  To  me,  blood-thirsty  lord; 

And  for  that  cause  I  train'd  thee  to  my  house. 
Long  time  thy  shadow  had  been  thrall  to  me, 
For  in  my  gallery  thy  picture  hangs: 
But  now  the  substance  shall  endure  the  like. 
And  I  will  chain  these  legs  and  arms  of  thine. 
That  hast  by  tyranny  these  many  years  40 

Wasted  our  country,  slain  our  citizens. 
And  sent  our  sons  and  husbands  captivate. 

23.  "Writhled"  for  wrinkled.  Thus  Spenser:  "Her  writhled  skin 
as  rough  as  maple  rind."  And  Marston,  in  his  fourth  Satire: 
"Cold  writhled  eld,  his  lives  web  almost  spent." — H.  N.  H. 

50 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  iiL 

TaL  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

Count.  Laughest  thou,   wretch?   thy   mirtli   shall 

turn  to  moan. 
Tal.  I  laugh  to  see  your  ladyship  so  fond 

To  think  that  you  have  aught   but   Talbot's 
shadow 

Whereon  to  practice  your  severity. 
Count,  Why,  art  not  thou  the  man? 
Tal,  I  am  indeed. 

Count,  Then  have  I  substance  too. 
Tal.  No,  no,  I  am  but  shadow^  of  myself:  50 

You  are  deceived,  my  substance  is  not  here ; 

For  what  you  see  is  but  the  smallest  part 

And  least  proportion  of  humanity : 

I  tell  you,  madam,  were  the  whole  frame  here, 

It  is  of  such  a  spacious  lofty  pitch, 

Your  roof  were  not  sufficient  to  contain  't. 
Count.  This  is  a  riddling  merchant  for  the  nonce; 

He  will  be  here,  and  yet  he  is  not  here : 

How  can  these  contrarieties  agree? 
Tal.  That  will  I  show  you  presently.  60 

[Winds  his  horn.     Drums  strike  up:  a  peal 
of  ordnance.     Enter  Soldiers. 

49.  "/  substance";  Vaughan  proposed  to  read  "I  shadow,  aye  and 
substance." — I.  G. 

57.  The  term  "merchant,"  which  was  often  applied  to  the  lowest 
kind  of  dealers,  seems  anciently  to  have  been  used  on  these  familiar 
occasions  in  contradistinction  to  gentleman;  signifying  that  the 
person  showed  by  his  behavior  he  was  a  low  fellow.  Thus  in 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  the  nurse  saj's,  "I  pray  you,  sir,  what  saucy 
merchant  was  this,  that  was  so  full  of  his  ropery?" — "For  the  nonce'* 
is  for  the  purpose  or  the  occasion. — H.  N.  H. 

"for  the  nonce";  in  Shakespeare's  undoubted  works  this  phrase 
means  "fit  for  the  occasion";  here  it  is  rather  "without  parallel,"' 
"singular  in  his  kind." — C.  H.  H. 

51 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

How  say  you,  madam?  are  you  now  persuaded 

That  Talbot  is  but  shadow  of  hunself  ? 

These    are    his    substance,    sinews,    arms    and 

strength, 
With  which  he  yoketh  your  rebelHous  necks, 
Razeth  your  cities  and  subverts  your  towns 
And  in  a  moment  makes  them  desolate. 

Count.  Victorious  Talbot!  pardon  my  abuse: 

I  find  thou  art  no  less  than  fame  hath  bruited, 
And  more  than  may  be  gather'd  by  thy  shape. 
Let  my  presumption  not  provoke  thy  wrath ;    70 
For  I  am  sorry  that  with  reverence 
I  did  not  entertain  thee  as  thou  art. 

Tal.  Be  not  dismay'd,  fair  lady;  nor  misconstrue 
The  mind  of  Talbot,  as  you  did  mistake 
The  outward  composition  of  his  body. 
What  you  have  done  hath  not  offended  me ; 
Xor  other  satisfaction  do  I  crave, 
But  only,  with  your  patience,  that  we  may 
Taste  of  your  wine  and  see  what  cates  you  have ; 
For  soldiers'  stomachs  always  serve  them 

well.  80 

Count.  With  all  my  heart,  and  think  me  honored 
To  feast  so  great  a  warrior  in  my  house. 

lEa^eunt. 


52 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Scene  IV 

London.     The  Temple- garden. 

Enter  the  Earls  of  Somerset,  Suffolk,  and  War- 
wick; Richard  Plantagenet^  Vernon,  and  an- 
other Lawyer. 

Plan.  Great  lords  and  gentlemen,  what  means  this 
silence? 

Dare  no  man  answer  in  a  case  of  truth? 
Suf.  Within  the  Temple-hall  we  were  too  loud ; 

The  garden  here  is  more  convenient. 
Plan.  Then  say  at  once  if  I  maintain'd  the  truth; 

Or  else  was  \^Tangling  Somerset  in  the  error? 

1.  This  Richard  Plantagenet  was  son  to  the  earl  of  Cambridge 
who  was  overtaken  in  a  plot  against  the  life  of  Henry  V,  and 
executed  at  Southampton.  That  earl  was  a  younger  brother  of 
f^dward,  duke  of  York,  who  fell  at  the  battle  of  Agincourt,  and 
had  no  child  to  succeed  him.  So  that  on  his  father's  side  Rich- 
ard was  grandson  to  Edmund  of  Langley,  the  -fifth  son  of  Edward 
III.  His  mother  was  Anne,  sister  of  Edmund  Mortimer,  earl  of 
March,  and  great-granddaughter  to  Lionel,  duke  of  Clarence,  who 
was  the  third  son  of  Edward  IH.  In  1125,  the  fourth  year  of 
Henry  VI,  Richard  was  restored  to  the  rights  and  titles  that  had 
been  forfeited  by  his  father,  and  was  made  duke  of  York.  After 
the  death  of  Bedford,  in  1435,  he  succeeded  him  as  regent  of 
France;  was  recalled  two  years  later,  and  appointed  again  in 
1441.  Some  three  years  after,  being  supplanted  in  that  office  by 
his  rival,  the  duke  of  Somerset,  he  took  the  government  of  Ire- 
land instead,  from  whence  he  began  to  stretch  forth  his  hand  to 
the  crown. — H.  N.  H. 

6.  The  earl  of  Somerset  at  this  time  was  John  Beaufort,  grand- 
son to  John  of  Ghent  by  Catharine  Swynford,  and  of  course  nephew 
to  the  duke  of  Exeter  and  the  bishop  of  Winchester.  He  was  after- 
wards advanced  to  the  rank  of  duke,  and  died  in  143x?,  leaving  his 
title  to  his  brother  Edmund;  his  only  surviving  child  being  Margaret, 
who  was  married  to  the  earl  of  Richmond,  and  thence  became  the 
mother  of  Henry  VII.    So  that  there  were  two  dukes  of  Somerset 

53 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Suf.  Faith,  I  have  been  a  truant  in  the  law. 
And  never  yet  could  frame  my  will  to  it; 
And  therefore  frame  the  law  unto  my  will. 
So?n.  Judge  you,  my  lord  of  Warwick,  then,  be- 
tween us.  10 
War.  Between  two  hawks,  which  flies  the  higher 
pitch ; 
Between    two    dogs,    which    hath    the    deeper 

mouth ; 
Between  two  blades,  which  bears  the  better  tem- 
per : 
Between  two  horses,  which  doth  bear  him  best; 
Between  two  girls,  which  hath  the  merriest  eye ; 
I  have  perhaps  some  shallow  spirit  of  judg- 
ment: 
But  in  these  nice  sharp  quillets  of  the  law, 
Good  faith,  I  am  no  wiser  than  a  daw. 
Plan.  Tut,  tut,  here  is  a  mannerly  forbearance : 
The  truth  appears  so  naked  on  my  side  20 

That  any  purblind  eye  may  find  it  out. 
Som.  And  on  my  side  it  is  so  well  apparel'd, 

in  the  time  of  this  play,  though  the  Poet  does  not  distinguish  them; 
or  rather  he  prolongs  the  life  of  John  several  years  beyond  its 
actual  date. — H.  N.  H. 

6.  "in  the  error";  Johnson  (adopted  by  Capell),  "i'  the  right"; 
Hudson,  "in  error." — I.  G. 

11.  The  present  earl  of  Warwick  was  Richard  Beauchamp,  sur- 
named  the  Good.  He  was  esteemed  the  greatest  of  the  captains 
formed  in  the  great  school  of  Henry  V.  After  the  death  of  Exeter, 
he  was  appointed  governor  of  the  young  king  in  l^SG.  When  York 
was  first  recalled  from  the  regency  of  France,  in  1437,  Warwick 
succeeded  him,  with  the  title  of  Lieutenant-general  and  Governor 
of  France,  and  died  at  Rouen  in  May,  1439.  Shakespeare,  how- 
ever, keeps  him  alive  till  the  end  of  the  play,  or  at  least  does  not 
distinguish  him  from  Henry,  who  succeeded  him. — H.  N.  H. 

54 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

So  clear,  so  shining  and  so  evident 

That  it  will  glimmer  through  a  blind  man's  eye. 

Plan.  Since  you  are  tongue-tied  and  so  loath  to 
speak,  ^ 

In  dumb  significants  proclaim  your  thoughts: 
Let  him  that  is  a  true-born  gentleman. 
And  stands  upon  the  honor  of  his  birth, 
If  he  suppose  that  I  have  pleaded  truth. 
From  off  this  brier  pluck  a  white  rose  with 
me.  30 

Som.  Let  him  that  is  no  cow^ard  nor  no  flatterer, 
But  dare  maintain  the  party  of  the  truth. 
Pluck  a  red  rose  from  off  this  thorn  w^th  me. 

War.  I  love  no  colors,  and  without  all  color 
Of  base  insinuating  flattery 
I  pluck  this  white  rose  with  Plantagenet. 

Suf.  I  pluck  this  red  rose  with  young  Somerset, 
And  say  withal  I  think  he  held  the  right. 

Ver.  Stay,   lords   and   gentlemen,   and   pluck   no 
more. 
Till  you  conclude  that  he,  upon  whose  side      40 
The  fewest  roses  are  cropp'd  from  the  tree, 
Shall  yield  the  other  in  the  right  opinion. 

Som.  Good  INIaster  Vernon,  it  is  well  objected: 
If  I  have  fewest,  I  subscribe  in  silence. 

Plan.  And  I. 

Ver.  Then  for  the  truth  and  plainness  of  the  case, 
I  pluck  this  pale  and  maiden  blossom  here. 
Giving  my  verdict  on  the  white  rose  side. 

Som.  Prick  not  your  finger  as  you  pluck  it  off, 

34.  "Colors"  is  here  used  ambiguously   for  tints  and  deceits. — H. 
N.  H. 

55 


Act  11.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Lest  bleeding  you  do  j)aint  the  white  rose 
red,  50 

And  fall  on  my  side  so,  against  your  will. 
Ver.  If  I,  my  lord,  for  my  opinion  bleed, 

Opinion  shall  be  surgeon  to  my  hurt 

And  keep  me  on  the  side  where  still  I  am. 
Som.  V\^ell,  well,  come  on:  who  else? 
Law.  Unless  my  study  and  my  books  be  false, 

The  argument  you  held  was  wrong  in  you ; 

[To  Somerset. 

In  sign  whereof  I  pluck  a  white  rose  too. 
Plan.  Now,  Somerset,  where  is  your  argument? 
Som.  Here  in  my  scabbard,  meditating  that        60 

Shall  dye  your  white  rose  in  a  bloody  red. 
Plan.  jMeantime  your  cheeks  do  counterfeit  our 
roses ; 

For  pale  they  look  with  fear,  as  witnessing 

The  truth  on  our  side. 
Som.  No,  Plantagenet, 

'Tis  not  for  fear  but  anger  that  thy  cheeks 

Blush  for  pure  shame  to  counterfeit  our  roses, 

And  }^et  thy  tongue  will  not  confess  thy  error. 
Plan.  Hath  not  thy  rose  a  canker,  Somerset? 
Som.  Hath  not  thy  rose  a  thorn,  Plantagenet? 
Plan.  Aye,   sharp   and  piercing,   to  maintain  his 
truth;  70 

Whiles  thy  consuming  canker  eats  his   false- 
hood. 
Som.  Well,  I  '11  find  friends  to  wear  my  bleeding 
roses. 

That  shall  maintain  what  I  have  said  is  true, 

Where  false  Plantagenet  dare  not  be  seen. 

56 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Plan.  Now,  by  this  maiden  blossom  in  my  Iiand, 

I  scorn  thee  and  thy  fashion,  peevish  boy. 
Snf.  Turn  not  thy  scorns  tliis  way,  Plantagenet. 
Plan.  Proud  Pole,  I  will,  and  scorn  both  him  and 

thee. 
Snf.  I  '11  turn  my  part  thereof  into  thy  throat. 
Som.  Away,  away,  good  William  de  la  Pole !       80 
We  grace  the  yeoman  by  conversing  with  him. 
War.  Now,  by  God's  will,  thou  wrong'st  him,  Som- 
erset ; 
His  grandfather  was  Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence, 
Third  son  to  the  third  Edward  King  of  Eng- 
land: 
Spring  crestless  yeoman  from  so  deep  a  root? 
Plan.  He  bears  him  on  the  place's  privilege. 
Or  durst  not,  for  his  craven  heart,  say  thus. 
Som.  By  him  that  made  me,   I  '11  maintain  my 
words 
On  any  plot  of  ground  in  Christendom. 
Was  not  thy  father,  Richard  Earl  of  Cam- 
bridge,  90 

For  treason  executed  in  our  late  king's  days? 

7G.  "Fashion"—  Faction.— H.   N.    H. 

83.  "Ills  grandfather  loas  Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence";  this  is  er- 
roneous; Duke  Lionel  was  his  maternal  great-great-grandfather. — 
I.  G. 

86.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  "Temple"  had  any  privilege  of  sanc- 
tuary at  this  time,  being  then,  as  now,  the  residence  of  law  students. 
The  author  niigiit  imaj^-'ne  it  to  have  derived  some  such  privilege 
from  the  knights  templars,  or  knights  hospitallers,  both  religious 
orders,  its  former  inhabitants.  It  is  true,  blows  may  have  been 
prohibited  by  the  regulations  of  the  society:  the  author  perhaps  did 
not  nnich  consider  the  matter,  but  represents  it  as  suited  his  pur- 
pose.—H.  N.  H. 

91.  "executed";  Pope,  "headed";  Steevens,  "execute"  (probably  to 
be  read  as  a  dissyllable). — I.  G. 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

And,  by  liis  treason,  stand'st  not  thou  attainted, 
Corrupted,  and  exempt  from  ancient  gentry? 
His  trespass  yet  lives  guilty  in  thy  blood; 
And,  till  thou  be  restored,  thou  art  a  yeoman. 

Plan.  ]My  father  was  attached,  not  attainted, 
Condemn'd  to  die  for  treason,  but  no  traitor; 
And  that  I  '11  prove  on  better  men  than  Som- 
erset, 
Were  growing  time  once  ripen'd  to  my  will. 
For  your  partaker  Pole  and  you  yourself,      100 
I  '11  note  you  in  my  book  of  memory. 
To  scourge  you  for  this  apprehension: 
Look  to  it  well  and  say  you  are  well  warn'd. 

Som.  Ah,  thou  shalt  find  us  ready  for  thee  still; 
And  know  us  by  these  colors  for  thy  foes, 
For  these  my  friends  in  spite  of  thee  shall 
wear. 

Plan.  And,  by  my  soul,  this  pale  and  angry  rose, 
As  cognizance  of  my  blood-drinking  hate. 
Will  I  for  ever  and  my  faction  wear, 
Until  it  wither  with  me  to  my  grave,  HO 

Or  flourish  to  the  height  of  my  degree. 

Suf.  Go  forward  and  be  choked  with  thy  ambi- 
tion! 
And  so  farewell  until  I  meet  thee  next.      [Exit. 

Som.  Have  with  thee,  Pole.     Farewell,  ambitious 
Richard.  •  [Exit. 

Plan.  How  I  am  braved  and  must  perforce  en- 
dure it! 

War.  This  blot  that  they  object  against  your  house 

114.  "Have  with  thee,"  I  go  with  thee.— C.  H.  H. 

58 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  iv. 

Shall  be  wiped  out  in  the  next  parliament 
Call'd  for  the  truce  of  Winchester  and  Glouces- 
ter; 
And  if  thou  be  not  then  created  York, 
I  will  not  live  to  be  accounted  Warwick.        120 
Meantime,  in  signal  of  my  love  to  thee. 
Against  proud  Somerset  and  William  Pole, 
Will  I  upon  thy  party  wxar  this  rose: 
And  here  I  prophesy:  this  brawl  to-day. 
Grown  to  this  faction  in  the  Temple-garden, 
Shall  send  between  the  red  rose  and  the  white 
A  thousand  souls  to  death  and  deadly  night. 

Plan.  Good  JNIaster  Vernon,  I  am  bound  to  you. 
That  you  on  my  behalf  -would  pluck  a  flower. 

Ver,  In  your  behalf  still  will  I  wear  the  same.     130 

Law.  And  so  will  I. 

Plan.  Thanks,  gentle  sir. 

Come,  let  us  four  to  dinner :  I  dare  say 
This  quarrel  will  drink  blood  another  day. 

[Exeunt. 

117,  "wiped";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "wip't";  F.  1,  "whijit."—!.  G. 
127.  "a  thousand";  Collier  MS.,  "Ten  thousand."— I.  G. 
132.  "gentle  sir";  so  Ff.  2,  3,  4;  F.  1,  "gentle."    Anon,  conj.,  "tjetv- 
tlemen." — I.  G. 


59 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 


Scene  V 

The  Tower  of  London. 

Enter  Mortimer,  brought  in  a  chair,  and  Jailers, 

Mor.  Kind  keepers  of  my  weak  decaying  age. 
Let  dying  Mortimer  here  rest  himself. 
Even  like  a  man  new  haled  from  the  rack, 
So  fare  my  limbs  v/ith  long  imprisonment; 
And  these  gi'ay  locks,  the  pursuivants  of  death, 
Nestor-like  aged  in  an  age  of  care, 
Argue  the  end  of  Edmund  Mortimer. 
These  eyes,  like  lamps  whose  wasting  oil  is 

spent. 
Wax  dim,  as  drawing  to  their  exigent; 
Weak    shoulders,    overborne   with   burthening 

grief,  10 

1.  "enter  Mortimer";  Edmund  Mortimer  served  under  Henry  V 
in  1423,  and  died  in  his  castle  in  Ireland  in  1424. — I.  G. 

This  scene  is  at  variance  v/ith  history.  Edmund  Mortimer,  who 
was  trusted  and  employed  by  Henry  V  throughout  his  reign,  died 
of  the  plague  in  his  own  castle  at  Trim,  in  Ireland,  in  1424;  being 
then  only  thirty-two  years  old.  His  uncle,  Sir  John  Mortimer,  was 
indeed  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  and  was  executed  not  long  before 
the  earl  of  March's  death,  being  charged  with  an  attempt  to  make 
his  escape  in  order  to  stir  tip  an  insurrection  in  Wales.  The  Poet 
was  led  into  error  by  the  popular  historians  of  his  time.  Hall  re- 
lates that,  in  the  third  year  of  Henry  VI,  "Edmond  Mortimer,  the 
last  earl  of  Marche  of  that  name,  (wMcke  lonci  time  had  bene  re~ 
strayned  from  his  liberty,  and  finally  waxed  lame,)  deceased  with- 
out issue,  whose  inheritance  descended  to  the  Lord  Richard  Planta- 
genet."  And  in  a  previous  passage  he  has  observed,  "The  erle  of 
Marche  was  ever  kepte  in  the  cotirte  under  such  a  keeper  that  he 
could  neither  do  nor  attempt  any  thyng  agaynste  the  kyng  wythout 
his  knowledge,  and  died  without  issue." — H.  N.  H. 

G.  "an  aye  of  care";  Collier  MS.,  "a  cage  of  care." — I.  G. 

9.  "exigent,"  extreme  moment,  end. — C.  H.  H. 

60 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  v. 

And  pithless  arms,  like  to  a  wither'd  vine 
That  droops  his  sapless  branches  to  the  ground: 
Yet  are  these  feet,  whose  strengthless  stay  is 

numb, 
Unable  to  suj^port  this  lump  of  clay, 
Swift-winged  with  desire  to  get  a  grave, 
As  witting  I  no  other  comfort  have. 
But  tell  me,  keeper,  will  my  nephew  come? 
First   Jail.  Richard   Plantagenet,    my   lord,    will 
come: 
We  sent  unto  the  Temple,  unto  his  chamber; 
And  answer  was  return'd  that  he  will  come.     20 
Mo7\  Enough :  my  soul  shall  then  be  satisfied. 
Poor  gentleman!  his  wrong  doth  equal  mine. 
Since  Henry  ^lonmouth  first  began  to  reign, 
Before  whose  glory  I  was  great  in  arms, 
This  loathsome  sequestration  have  I  had; 
And  even  since  then  hath  Richard  been  ob- 
scured. 
Deprived  of  honor  and  inheritance. 
But  now  the  arbitrator  of  despairs. 
Just  death,  kind  umpire  of  men's  miseries. 
With  sweet  enlargement  doth  dismiss  me 

hence:  30 

I  would  his  troubles  likewise  were  expired. 
That  so  he  might  recm'-er  what  Avas  lost. 

Enter  Richard  Plantagenet. 

First  Jail.  My  lord,  your  loving  nephew  now  is 

come. 
Dfor.  Richard  Plantagenet,  my  friend,  is  he  come? 

61 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Plan.  Aye,  noble  uncle,  thus  ignobly  used, 

Your  nephew,  late  despised  Richard,  comes. 

Mor.  Direct  mine  arms  I  may  embrace  his  neck, 
And  in  his  bosom  spend  my  latter  gasp : 
O,  tell  me  when  my  lips  do  touch  his  cheeks. 
That  I  may  kindly  give  one  fainting  kiss.       40 
And  now  declare,  sweet  stem  from  York's  great 

stock, 
Why  didst  thou  say  of  late  thou  wert  despised? 

Plan.  First,   lean  thine  aged  back  against  mine 
arm ; 
And,  in  that  case,  I'll  tell  thee  my  disease. 
This  day,  in  argument  upon  a  case, 
Some  words  there  grew  'twixt  Somerset  and 

me; 
Among  which  terms  he  used  his  lavish  tongue 
And  did  upbraid  me  with  iiiy  father's  death: 
With  obloquy  set  bars  before  my  tongue. 
Else  with  the  like  I  had  requited  him.  ^0 

Therefore,  good  uncle,  for  my  father's  sake, 
In  honor  of  a  true  Plantagenet 
And  for  alliance  sake,  declare  the  cause 
My  father,  Earl  of  Cambridge,  lost  his  head. 

Mor.  That  cause,  fair  nephew,  that  imprison'd  me 
And  hath  detain'd  me  all  my  flowering  youth 
Within  a  loathsome  dungeon,  there  to  pine. 
Was  cursed  instrument  of  his  decease. 

Plan.  Discover  more  at  large  what  cause  that  was, 
For  I  am  ignorant  and  cannot  guess.  ^^ 

44.  "Disease"  for  uneasiness,  trouble,  or  grief.     It  is  used  in  this 
sense  by  other  ancient  writers. — H.  N.  H. 
53.  "alliance,"  iiinship.— C.  H.  H. 

62 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  v. 

Mor.  I  will,  if  that  my  fading  breath  permit. 
And  death  approach  not  ere  my  tale  be  done. 
Heniy  the  Fourth,  grandfather  to  this  king,  " 
Deposed  his  nephew  Kichard,  Edward's  son, 
The  first-begotten  and  the  lawful  heir 
Of  Edward  king,  the  third  of  that  descent: 
During  whose  reign  the  Percies  of  the  north, 
Finchng  his  usurpation  most  unjust, 
Endeavor'd  my  advancement  to  the  throne. 
The  reason  moved  these  warlike  lords  to  this   70 
Was,  for  that — ^j'^oung  King  Richard  thus  re- 
moved, 
Lea^dng  no  heir  begotten  of  liis  body — 
I  was  the  next  by  birth  and  parentage; 
For  by  my  mother  I  derived  am 
From  Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence,  the  third  son 
To  KJng  Edward  the  Third ;  whereas  he 
From  John  of  Gaunt  doth  bring  his  pedigree. 
Being  but  fourth  of  that  heroic  line. 
But  mark:  as  in  this  haughty  great  attempt 
They  labored  to  plant  the  rightful  heir,  80 

I  lost  my  liberty  and  they  their  lives. 
Long  after  this,  when  Henry  the  Fifth, 
Succeeding  his  father  Bolingbroke,  did  reign, 
Thy  father,  Earl  of  Cambridge,  then  derived 
From    famous    Edmund    Langley,    Duke    of 

York, 
Marrying  my  sister  that  thy  mother  was, 

64.  Nephew  has  sometimes  the  power  of  the  Latin  nepos,  signify- 
ing grandchild,  and  is  nsed  witli  great  laxitj'  among  our  ancient 
Englisli  writers.     It  is  liere  used  instead  of  cousin. — H.  X.   H. 

74.  "For  by  my  mother  I  derived  am";  "motlier"  should  strictly 
be  "grandmother,"  t.  e.  his  father's  mother. — I.  G. 

11  63 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Again  in  pity  of  my  hard  distress. 

Levied  an  army,  weening  to  redeem 

And  have  install'd  me  in  the  diadem : 

But,  as  the  rest,  so  fell  that  noble  earl  90 

And  was  beheaded.     Thus  the  JMortimers, 

In  whom  the  title  rested,  were  suppress'd. 

Plan.  Of  which,  my  lord,  your  honor  is  the  last. 

3Ior.  True;  and  thou  seest  that  I  no  issue  have. 
And  that  my  fainting  words  do  warrant  death : 
Thou  art  my  heir;  the  rest  I  wish  thee  gather: 
But  yet  be  wary  in  thy  studious  care. 

Plan.  Thy  grave  admonishments  prevail  with  me: 
But  yet,  methinks,  my  father's  execution 
Was  nothing  less  than  bloody  tyranny.       100 

Mor.  With  silence,  nephew,  be  thou  politic: 
Strong-fixed  is  the  house  of  Lancaster, 
And  like  a  mountain  not  to  be  removed. 
But  now  thy  uncle  is  removing  hence; 
As  princes  do  their  courts,  when  they  are  cloy'd 
With  long  continuance  in  a  settled  place. 

Plan.  O,  uncle,   would  some  part  of  my  young 
years 
Might  but  redeem  the  passage  of  your  age! 

Mor.  Thou  dost  then  wrong  me,  as  that  slaughter 
doth 
Which  giveth  many  wounds  when  one  will 
kill.  110 

88.  "weening,"  that  is,  thinking.  This  is  another  departure  from 
history.  Cambridge  levied  no  army,  but  was  apprehended  at  South- 
ampton, the  night  before  Henrj''  sailed  from  that  town  for  France, 
on  the  information  of  this  very  earl  of  March. — H.  N.  H. 

96.  That  is,  I  acknowledge  thee  to  be  my  heir;  the  consequences 
growing  from  thence  I  wish  you  to  follow  out  for  yourself. — H.  N. 
H. 

64 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  v. 

IVIoiirn  not,  except  thou  sorrow  for  my  good ; 
Only  give  order  for  my  funeral: 
And  so  farewell,  and  fair  be  all  thy  hopes, 
iVnd  prosperous  be  thj^  life  in  peace  and  war! 

[Dies, 
Plan.  And  peace,  nor  war,  befall  thy  parting  soul ! 
In  prison  hast  thou  spent  a  pilgrimage, 
And  like  a  hermit  overpass'd  thy  days. 
Well,  I  will  lock  his  counsel  in  my  breast; 
And  what  I  do  im.agine  let  that  rest. 
Keepers,  convey  him  hence,  and  I  myself     120 
Will  see  his  burial  better  than  his  life. 
[Exeunt  JailorSj  bearing  out  the 

body  of  Mortimer, 
Here  dies  the  duskv  torch  of  ]\lortimer. 
Choked  with  ambition  of  the  meaner  sort: 
And  for  those  wrongs,  those  bitter  injuries, 
Which  Somerset  hath  offer'd  to  my  house, 
I  doubt  not  but  with  honor  to  redress; 
And  therefore  haste  I  to  the  parliament, 
Either  to  be  restored  to  mv  blood. 
Or  make  my  ill  the  advantage  of  my  good. 

[Exit. 

113.  "fair  be  all";  Theobald;  "fair  befal."—J.  G. 

123.  "choked  vuth  ambition  of  the  meaner  sort,"  i.  e.  "shifted  by 
the  ambition  of  those  whose  right  to  the  cro^vn  was  inferior  to 
his  own." — Clarke. 

129.  '•ill  the  advantaffe";  "ill,"  Theobald's  emendation  of  "will"  of 
the  Ff.    Collier  MS.,  "will  the  advancer."— I.  G. 


65 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 


ACT  THIRD 
Scene  I 

London.     The  Parliament-house. 

Flourish.  Enter  King,  Exeter,  Gloucester,  PVar- 
mck,  Somerset,  and  Suffolk;  the  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  Richard  Plantagenet,  and  others. 
Gloucester  offers  to  put  up  a  hill;  Winchester 
snatches  it,  tears  it. 

Win.  Comest  thou  with  deep  premeditated  Hnes, 
With  written  pamphlets  studiously  devised, 
Humphrey  of  Gloucester?     If  thou  canst  ac- 
cuse. 
Or  aught  intend'st  to  lay  unto  my  charge. 
Do  it  without  invention,  suddenly; 
As  I  with  sudden  and  extemporal  speech 
Purpose  to  answer  what  thou  canst  object. 

Glou.  Presumptuous  priest!  this  place  commands 
my  patience. 
Or  thou  shouldst  find  thou  hast  dishonor'd  me. 
Think  not,  although  in  writing  I  preferr'd      10 
The  manner  of  thy  vile  outrageous  crimes, 
That  therefore  I  have  forged,  or  am  not  able 

Sc.  1.  London.  The  Parliament-house.  The  writer  in  this  scene 
combines  three  events  separated  by  considerable  intervals  in  Holin- 
shed,  and  still  further  in  reality:  the  riot  between  the  followers  of 
Gloucester  and  Winchester;  their  formal  reconciliation;  and  the 
restitution  of  Plantagenet.  The  second  took  place  not  in  London, 
but  at  the  parliament  of  Leicester,  1436.— H.  N.  H. 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  L 

Verbatim  to  rehearse  the  method  of  my  pen: 
No,  prelate;  sucli  is  thy  audacious  wickedness. 
Thy  lewd,  pestiferous  and  dissentious  pranks, 
As  very  infants  prattle  of  thy  pride. 
Thou  art  a  most  pernicious  usurer, 
FroAvard  by  nature,  enemy  to  peace; 
Lascivious,  wanton,  more  than  well  beseems 
A  man  of  thy  profession  and  degree;  20 

And  for  thy  treachery,  what's  more  manifest 
In  that  thou  laid'st  a  trap  to  take  my  life. 
As  well  at  London-bridge  as  at  the  Tower. 
Beside,  I  fear  me,  if  thy  thoughts  are  sifted 
The  king,  thy  sovereign,  is  not  quite  exempt 
From  envious  malice  of  thy  swelling  heart. 
Win.  Gloucester,  I  do  defy  thee.     Lords,  vouch- 
safe 
To  give  me  hearing  w-hat  I  shall  reply. 
If  I  were  covetous,  ambitious  or  perverse, 
As  he  will  have  me,  how  am  I  so  poor?  30 

13.  "Verbatim,"  orally.— C.  H.  H. 

23.  This  of  course  refers  to  the  aifair  explained  in  the  note  to 
Act  i.  sc.  3,  I,  91.  Holinshed  relates  that  upon  the  occasion  of  that 
furious  riot  "the  archbishop  of  Canterburie  and  the  duke  of  Quim- 
bre,  called  the  prince  of  Portingale,  rode  eight  times  in  one  dale  be- 
tweene  the  two  parties,  and  so  the  matter  was  staled  for  a  time. 
But  the  bishop  of  Winchester,  to  cleere  hiraselfe  of  blame  so  far 
as  he  might,  and  to  charge  his  nephue  the  lord  protectour  witli  all 
the  fault,  wrote  a  letter  to  the  regent  of  France."  The  regent, 
learning  how  things  stood  at  home,  made  Warwick  his  lieutenant 
in  France,  hastened  over  to  England,  and  called  the  parliament, 
which  licgnn  at  Leicester  March  25,  14:36;  "where  the  duke  of 
Bedford  openlie  rebuked  the  lords  in  generall,  bicause  that  they 
in  time  of  warre,  thorough  their  privie  malice  and  inward  grudge, 
had  almost  mooved  the  people  to  warre  and  commotion,  in  which 
time  all  men  should  be  of  one  mind,  hart,  and  consent.  In  this 
parlement  the  duke  of  Glocester  laid  certeine  articles  to  the  bishop 
of  Winchester  his  charge." — H.  N.  li. 

67 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Or  how  haps  it  I  seek  not  to  advance 

Or  raise  myself,  but  keep  my  wonted  calling? 

And  for  dissension,  who  preferreth  peace 

More  than  I  do? — except  I  be  provoked. 

Xo,  my  good  lords,  it  is  not  that  offends; 

It  is  not  that  that  hath  incensed  the  duke: 

It  is,  because  no  one  should  sway  but  he ; 

No  one  but  he  should  be  about  the  king; 

And  that  engenders  thunder  in  his  breast, 

And  makes  him  roar  these  accusations  forth.    40 

But  he  shall  know  I  am  as  good — 
GIou.  As  good! 

Thou  bastard  of  my  grandfather ! 
Win.  Aye,  lordly  sir;  for  what  are  you,  I  pray, 

But  one  imperious  in  another's  throne? 
Glou.  Am  I  not  protector,  saucy  priest? 
Win.  And  am  not  I  a  prelate  of  the  church? 
Glou.  Yes,  as  an  outlaw  in  a  castle  keeps 

And  useth  it  to  patronage  his  theft. 
Win.  Unreverent  Gloster! 
Glmi.  Thou  art  reverent 

Touching  thy  spiritual  function,  not  thy  life.    50 
Win.  Rome  shall  remedy  this. 
War.  Roam  thither,  then. 

Som.  My  lord,  it  were  your  duty  to  forbear. 

33.  "preferreth"  promotes.— C.  H.  H, 

42.  AVinchester  was  a  natural  son  of  John  of  Gaunt. — C.  H.  H. 

49.  "reverent,"  reverend,  worthy  of  reverence.  The  two  forms  "rev- 
erent" and  "reverend"  were  used  indiscriminately  in  the  two  senses. 
— C.  H.  H. 

51,  52.  The  jingle  between  roam  and  Rome  is  common  to  other  writ- 
ers. Thus  Nash,  in  his  Lenten  Stuf,  1599:  "Three  hundred  thousand 
people  roamed  to  Rome  for  purgatorie  pills."— H,  N.  H. 

68 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 

JVar.  Aye,  see  the  bishop  be  not  overborne. 

So7n.  Methinks  my  lord  should  be  religious, 
And  know  the  oifice  that  belongs  to  such. 

War.  JNIethinks  his  lordship  should  be  humbler; 
It  fitteth  not  a  prelate  so  to  plead. 

Sorn.  Yes,  when  his  holv  state  is  toueh'd  so  near. 

War.  State  holy  or  unhallow'd,  what  of  that? 
Is  not  his  grace  protector  to  the  king?  60 

Plan,  [^isidel   PJantagenet,  I  see,  must  hold  his 
tongue, 
Lest  it  be  said,  'Speak,  sirrah,  when  you  should; 
Must  your  bold  verdict  enter  talk  with  lords  ?' 
Else  would  I  have  a  fling  at  Winchester. 

King.  Uncles  of  Gloucester  and  of  ^Vinchester, 
The  special  watchmen  of  our  English  weal, 
I  would  prevail,  if  prayers  might  prevail, 
To  join  your  hearts  in  love  and  amity. 
O,  what  a  scandal  is  it  to  our  crown. 
That  two  such  noble  peers  as  ye  should  jar!   70 
Believe  me,  lords,  mj'^  tender  years  can  tell 
Civil  dissension  is  a  viperous  worm 
That  gnaws  the  bowels  of  the  commonwealth. 
[A  noise  xvithin,  'Down  with  the  tawny-coats!' 
What  tumult's  this? 

War.  An  uproar,  T  dare  warrant, 

Begun  through  malice  of  the  bishop's  men. 

[A  noise  again,  'Stones!  stones!* 

Enter  Mayor. 
May.  O,  my  good  lords,  and  virtuous  Henry, 

53.  "Ay,  see";  Rowe's  emendation  of  "I,  see"  of  the  Ff.;  Hanraer, 
"rU  see."— I.  G. 

(39 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Pity  the  city  of  London,  pity  us ! 

The  bishop  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester's  men, 

Forbidden  late  to  carry  any  weapon, 

Have  fill'd  their  pockets  full  of  pebble 

stones,  80 

And  banding  themselves  in  contraiy  parts 
Do  pelt  so  fast  at  one  another's  pate 
That  many  have  their  giddy  brains  knock'd 

out: 
Our  windows  are  broke  down  in  every  street, 
And  we  for  fear  compell'd  to  shut  our  shops. 

Enter  Serving-men,  in  skirmish,  with  bloody  pates. 

King,  We  charge  you,  on  allegiance  to  our  self, 
To  hold  your  slaughtering  hands  and  keep  the 

peace. 
Pray,  uncle  Gloucester,  mitigate  this  strife. 
First  Serv.  Nay,  if  we  be  forbidden  stones,  we  '11 
fall  to  it  with  our  teeth.  90 

Sec.  Serv.  Do  what  you  dare,  we  are  as  resolute. 

\^Skirmish  again. 
Glou.  You  of  my  household,  leave  this  peevish 
broil 
And  set  this  unaccustom'd  fight  aside. 
Third  Serv.  My  lord,  we  know  your  grace  to  be  a 
man 
Just  and  upright;  and,  for  your  royal  birth, 
Inferior  to  none  but  to  his  majesty: 
And  ere  that  we  will  suffer  such  a  prince, 
So  kind  a  father  of  the  commonweal, 
To  be  disgraced  by  an  inkhorn  mate, 

99.  That  is,  a  bookish  person,  a  pedant,  applied  in  contempt  to  a 

70 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

We  and  our  wives  and  children  all  will  fight,  1*^0 
And  have  our  bodies  slaughter'd  by  thy  foes. 

First  Serv.  Aye,  and  the  very  parings  of  our  nails 
Shall  pitch  a  field  when  we  are  dead. 

\_Begin  again. 

Glou.  Stay,  stay,  I  say! 

And  if  you  love  me,  as  you  say  you  do, 
Let  me  persuade  you  to  forbear  awhile. 

King.  O,  how  this  discord  doth  afflict  mj^  soul! 
Can  you,  my  Lord  of  Winchester,  behold 
My  sighs  and  tears  and  will  not  once  relent? 
Who  should  be  ])itiful,  if  you  be  not? 
Or  who  should  study  to  prefer  a  peace,         HO 
If  holy  churchmen  take  delight  in  broils? 

War.  Yield,  my  lord  protector ;  yield,  Winchester ; 
Except  you  mean  with  obstinate  repulse 
To  slay  your  sovereign  and  destroy  the  realm. 
You  see  what  mischief  and  what  murder  too 
Hath  been  enacted  through  your  enmity; 
Then  be  at  peace,  except  ye  thirst  for  blood. 

Win.  He  shall  submit,  or  I  will  never  yield. 

Glou.  Compassion    on    the    king    conmiands    me 
stoop ; 
Or  I  would  see  his  heart  out,  ere  the  priest    120 
Should  ever  get  that  privilege  of  me. 

War.  Behold,  my  Lord  of  Winchester,  the  duke 
Hath  banish'd  moody  discontented  fury, 

scholar,  Inkhornisms  and  inkhorn-terms  were  common  expressions. 
"If  one  chance  to  derive  anie  word  from  the  Latine,  which  is  insolent 
to  their  ears  (as  perchance  they  will  take  that  phrase  to  be)  they 
forthwith  make  a  jest  of  it,  and  terme  it  an  inkhorne  tearme." — 
Preface  to  Guazzo's  Civil  Conversation,  1586.  Florio  defines  pedan- 
taggine  "a  fond  self-conceit  in  using  of  ink-pot  words  or  affected 
Latinisras,  as  most  pedants  do,  and  is  taken  in  an  ill  sense." — H.  N.  H. 

71 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

As  by  his  smoothed  brows  it  doth  appear: 
Why  look  you  still  so  stern  and  tragical? 

Glou.  Here,  Winchester,  I  offer  thee  my  hand. 

King.  Fie,   uncle  Beaufort!     I    have   heard   you 
preach 
That  malice  was  a  great  and  grievous  sin ; 
And  will  not  you  maintain  the  thing  you  teach. 
But  prove  a  chief  offender  in  the  same?         130 

Wai\  Sweet  king !  the  bishop  hath  a  kindly  gird. 
For  shame,  my  lord  of  Winchester,  relent! 
What,  shall  a  child  instruct  you  what  to  do? 

Win.  Well,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  I  will  yield  to 
thee; 
Love  for  thy  love  and  hand  for  hand  I  give. 

Glou.  [Aside]  Aye,  but,  I  fear  me,  with  a  hollow 
heart. — 
See  here,  my  friends  and  loving  countrymen ; 
This  token  serveth  for  a  flag  of  truce 
Betwixt  ourselves  and  all  our  followers: 
So  help  me  God,  as  I  dissemble  not !  140 

Win.  [Aside]   So  help  me  God,  as  I  intend  it  not! 

King.  O  loving  uncle,  kind  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
How  joyful  am  I  made  by  this  contract! 
Away,  my  masters!  trouble  us  no  more;    - 
But  join  in  friendship,  as  your  lords  have  done. 

First  Serv.  Content:  I'll  to  the  surgeon's. 

Sec.  Serv.  And  so  will  1= 

Third  Serv.  And  I  will  see  what  physic  the  tavern 
affords.  [Exeunt  Serving-men,  Mayor,  c^. 

131.  "hath  a  kindly  gird,"  receives  a  meet  rebuke. — C.  H.  H. 
142.  "Mnd";    Pope,    "gentle";    Capell,    "kind,    kind";    Collier    MS., 
'■'end  kind";  probably  the  line  should  be  read: — 

"O  loving  Uncle.  \ \  Kind  Diike  \  of  Olducest4r" — I.  G. 

72 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

War,  Accept  this  scroll,  most  gracious  sovereign, 
Which  is  the  right  of  Richard  Plantagenet.  1^^ 
We  do  exhibit  to  your  majesty. 

Gloii.  Well  urged,  my  Lord  of  Warwick:   for, 
sweet  uriiice, 
An  if  your  grace  mark  every  circumstance. 
You  have  great  reason  to  do  Richard  right: 
Esj^ecially  for  those  occasions 
At  Eltham  place  I  told  your  majesty. 

King.  And  those  occasions,  uncle,  were  of  force: 
Therefore,  my  loving  lords,  our  pleasure  is 
That  Richard  be  restored  to  his  blood. 

War.  Let  Richard  be  restored  to  his  blood;  160 
So  shall  his  father's  wrongs  be  recompensed. 

Win.  As  will  the  rest,  so  willeth  Winchester. 

King.  If  Richard  will  be  true,  not  that  alone 
But  all  the  whole  inheritance  I  give 
That  doth  belong  unto  the  house  of  York, 
From  whence  you  spring  by  lineal  descent. 

Plan.  Thy  humble  servant  vows  obedience 
And  humble  service  till  the  point  of  death. 

King.  Stoop  then  and  set  your  knee  against  my 
foot ; 
And,  in  reguerdon  of  that  duty  done,  1 '  ^ 

I  gird  thee  with  the  valiant  sword  of  York : 
Rise,  Richard,  like  a  true  Plantagenet, 
And  rise  created  princely  Duke  of  York. 

Plan.  And  so  thrive  Richard  as  thy  foes  may  fall! 

156.  "At  Eltham  Place  I  told,"  etc.,  i.  e.  which  I  told  ...  at 
Eltham  Place.— C.  H.  H. 

173.  Holinshed,  after  setting  forth  the  reconciliation  of  the  duke 
and    the    bishop,    adds,— "But    when    the    great    fier    of    tills    dissen- 


Shk-1-15 


7S 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

And  as  my  duty  springs,  so  perish  they 
That  grudge  one  thought  against  your  ma- 
jesty! 
All.  Welcome,  high  prince,  the  mighty  Duke  of 

York! 
So77i.  [Aside']   Perish,  base  prince,  ignoble  Duke 

of  York! 
Glou.  Now  will  it  best  avail  your  majesty 
To  cross  the  seas  and  to  be  crown'd  in 

France :  180 

The  presence  of  a  king  engenders  love 
Amongst  his  subjects  and  his  loyal  friends. 
As  it  disanimates  his  enemies. 
King.  When    Gloucester    says    the    word,    King 
Henry  goes; 
For  friendly  counsel  cuts  off  many  foes. 
Glou.  Your  ships  already  are  in  readiness. 

[Sennet.     Flourish.     Exeunt  all  hut  Exeter. 
Exe.  Aye,  we  may  march  in  England  or  in  France, 
Not  seeing  what  is  likely  to  ensue. 
This  late  dissension  grown  betwixt  the  peers 
Burns  under  feigned  ashes  of  forged  love,    190 
And  will  at  last  break  out  into  a  flame : 
As  fester'd  members  rot  but  by  degree. 
Till  bones  and  flesh  and  sinews  fall  away, 

tion  was  thus  by  the  arbitrators,  to  their  knowledge  and  judgment, 
utterly  quenched  out  and  laid  under  boord;  all  other  controversies 
betweene  other  lords,  taking  part  with  the  one  partie  or  the  other, 
were  appeased,  and  brought  to  concord,  so  that  for  joy  the  king 
caused  a  solemne  fest  to  be  kept  on  Whitsundaie;  on  which  dale 
he  created  Richard  Plantagenet,  sonne  and  heire  to  the  erle  of 
Cambridge,  duke  of  York,  not  foreseeing  that  this  preferment  should 
be  his  destruction." — H.  N.  H. 

183.  "disanimates,"  discourages.— C.  H.  H. 

74 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  in.  Sc.  ii. 

So  will  this  base  and  envious  discord  breed. 
And  now  I  fear  that  fatal  prophecy 
Which  in  the  time  of  Henry  named  the  fifth 
Was  in  the  mouth  of  every  sucking  babe; 
That  Henry  born  at  Monmouth  should  win  all 
And  Henry  born  at  Windsor  lose  all: 
Which  is  so  plain,  that  Exeter  doth  wish      200 
His  days  may  finish  ere  that  hapless  time. 

[E,rit. 


Scene  II 

France.     Before  Rouen. 

Enter  La  Pucelle  disguised,  xvith  four  Soldiers 
with  sacks  upon  their  hacks. 

Puc.  These  are  the  city  gates,  the  gates  of  Rouen, 
Through  which  our  policy  must  make  a  breach: 
Take  heed,  be  wary  how  you  place  your  words; 
Talk  like  the  vulgar  sort  of  market  men 
That  come  to  gather  money  for  their  corn. 
If  we  have  entrance,  as  I  hope  we  shall, 
And  that  we  find  the  slothful  watch  but  weak, 
I  '11  by  a  sign  give  notice  to  our  friends, 
That  Charles  the  Dauphin  may  encounter  them. 

First  Sol.  Our  sacks  shall  be  a  mean  to  sack  the 
citv,  10 

And  we  be  lords  and  rulers  over  Rouen ; 
Therefore  we  '11  knock.  [Knocks. 

199.  "lose,"  should  lose;  F.  1,  "loose";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "should  lose."— 
I.G. 

75 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Watch.  [Within'l  Qui  est  la? 

Puc.  Paysans,  pauvres  gens  de  France; 

Poor  market  folks  that  come  to  sell  their  corn. 
Watch.  Enter,  go  in ;  the  market  bell  is  rung. 
Puc.  Now,  Rouen,  I  '11  shake  thy  bulwarks  to  the 
ground.  [Ecceu7it. 

Enter  Charles _,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans j  Alengon, 
Reignier_,  and  forces. 

Char.  Saint  Denis  bless  this  happy  stratagem! 

And  once  again  we  '11  sleep  secure  in  Rouen. 
Bast.  Here  enter'd  Pucelle  and  her  practisants ;  20 
Now  she  is  there,  how  will  she  specify 
Where  is  the  best  and  safest  j^assage  in? 
Reign.  By   thrusting   out   a   torch    from   yonder 
tower ; 
Which,  once  discern' d,  shows  that  her  meaning 

is, 
No  way  to  that,  for  weakness,  which  she  en- 
ter'd. 

Enter  La  Pucelle  on  the  top,  thirsting  out  a  torch 

hurnhig. 

Puc.  Behold,  this  is  the  happy  wedding  torch 
That  joineth  Rouen  unto  her  countrymen. 
But  burning  fatal  to  the  Talbotites!       [Exit. 

Bast.  See,  noble  Charles,  the  beacon  of  our  friend; 

14.  "Paysans,  pauvres  gens  de  France";  Rowe's  emendation  of  Ff., 
"Peasatins  la  pouure,"  etc. — I.  G. 

25.  "No  way  into  the  town  is  so  ill-defended  as  that  by  which  sha 
had  entered."— C.  H.  H. 

76 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

The  burning  torch  in  yonder  turret  stands.      30 
Char.  Now  shine  it  like  a  comet  of  revenge, 

A  prophet  to  the  fall  of  all  our  foes ! 
Reign.  Defer  no  time,  delays  have  dangerous  ends: 

Enter,  and  cry,  'The  Dauphin!'  presently. 

And  then  do  execution  on  the  watch. 

lAlarwm.     Exeunt. 

An  alarum.     Enter  Talhot  in  an  excursion. 

Tal.  France,  thou  shalt  rue  this  treason  with  thy 
tears. 
If  Talbot  but  survive  thy  treachery. 
Pucelle,  that  witch,  that  damned  sorceress. 
Hath  wrought  this  hellish  mischief  unawares. 
That  hardly  we  escaped  the  pride  of  France.    40 

[Exit. 

40.  "the  pride";  Theobald,  "the  prize";  Hanmer,  "being  prize"; 
Jackson,  "the  bride";  Vaughan,  "the  gripe." — I.  G. 

"Pride"  here  signifies  haughty  power.  So,  afterwards,  in  Act 
iv.  sc.  6:  "And  from  the  pride  of  Gallia  rescu'd  thee." — Tlie  gen- 
eral sentiment  of  the  English  respecting  Joan  of  Arc  is  very  well 
shown  in  that  the  regent,  soon  after  the  coronation  at  Rhcims,  wrote 
to  Charles  VII,  complaining  that  "he  had,  bj^  the  allurement  of  a 
develish  witch,  taken  upon  him  the  name,  title,  and  dignitie  of  the 
king  of  France,"  and  challenging  him  to  a  trial  of  the  question  by 
private  combat.  Divers  other  choice  vituperative  epithets  are  stuck 
upon  the  heroic  maiden  by  the  old  chroniclers,  such  as  "false  mis- 
creant," "a  damnable  sorcerer  suborned  by  Satan,"  and  "hir  per- 
nicious practises  of  sorccrie  and  witcherie";  and  Holinshed  is  down 
upon  the  prince  for  having  to  do  with  her:  "Whose  dignitie  abroad 
was  foulic  spotted  in  this  point,  that  contrarie  to  the  holie  degree 
of  a  right  christen  prince,  he  would  not  reverence  to  prophane  his 
sacred  estate  by  dealing  in  develish  practises  with  misbeleevers  and 
witches."  There  needs  but  a  little  knowledge  of  men  as  they  now 
are,  to  understand  how  the  English  of  that  daj'  should  think  their 
power  so  great  that  none  but  spirits  could,  and  their  rights  so  clear 
that  none  but  devils  would,  thwart  their  purpose. — II.  X.  H. 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

An  alarum:  excursions.  Bedford,  brought  in  sick 
in  a  chair.  Enter  Talbot  and  Burgundy  with- 
out: within  La  Pucelle,  Charles,  Bastard,  Alen- 
fon,  and  Reignier,  on  the  walls. 

Puc.  Good  morrow,  gallants!  want  ye  corn  for 
bread  ? 
I  think  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  will  fast 
Before  he  '11  buy  again  at  such  a  rate: 
'Twas  full  of  darnel;  do  you  like  the  taste? 

Bur.  Scoff  on,  vile  fiend  and  shameless  courtezan! 
I  trust  ere  long  to  choke  thee  with  thine  own, 
And  make  thee  curse  the  harvest  of  that  corn. 

Char.  Your  grace  may  starve  perhaps  before  that 
time. 

Bed.  O,  let  no  words,  but  deeds,  revenge  this  trea- 
son! 

Puc.  What  will  you  do,   good  graybeard?  break 
a  lance,  50 

And  run  a  tilt  at  death  within  a  chair? 

Tal.  Foul  fiend  of  France,  and  hag  of  all  despite, 
Encompass'd  with  thy  lustful  paramours! 
Becomes  it  thee  to  taunt  his  valiant  age, 
And  twit  with  cowardice  a  man  half  dead? 
Damsel,  I  '11  have  a  bout  with  you  again. 
Or  else  let  Talbot  perish  with  this  shame. 

Puc.  Are  ye  so  hot?  yet,  Pucelle,  hold  thy  peace; 

44.  "Darnel,"  says  Gcrarde  in  his  Herbal,  "hurteth  the  eyes,  and 
maketh  them  dim,  if  it  happen  either  in  corne  for  breade,  or  drinke." 
La  Pucelle  means  to  intimate  that  the  corn  she  carried  with  her 
had  produced  the  same  effect  on  the  guards  of  Rouen;  otherwise 
they  would  have  seen  through  her  disguise,  and  defeated  her  strat- 
agem.— H.  N.  H. 

52.  "all  despite";  Collier  MS.,  "hell's  despite."— I.  G. 

78 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  u. 

If  Talbot  do  but  thunder,  rain  will  follow. 

[The  English  whisper  together  in  council. 

God  speed  the  parliament!  who  shall  be  the 

speaker  ?  ^^ 

Tal.  Dare  ye  come  forth  and  meet  us  in  the  field? 

Fuc.  Belike  your  lordship  takes  us  then  for  fools, 

To  try  if  that  our  own  be  ours  or  no. 
Tal.  I  speak  not  to  that  railing  Hecate, 

But  unto  thee,  Alenc^on,  and  the  rest; 

Will  ye,  like  soldiers,  come  and  fight  it  out  ? 
Alen.  Signior,  no. 
Tal.  Signior,  hang!  base  muleters  of  France! 

Like  peasant  foot-boys  do  they  keep  the  walls, 

And  dare  not  take  up  arms  like  gentlemen.      '''0 
Puc.  Away,  captains !  let 's  get  us  from  the  walls ; 

For  Talbot  means  no  goodness  by  his  looks. 

God  be  wi'  you,  my  lord!  we  came  but  to  tell 
you 

That  we  are  here.  [Exeunt  from  the  walls. 

Tal.  And  there  will  be  we  too,  ere  it  be  long, 

Or  else  reproach  be  Talbot's  greatest  fame! 

Vow,  Burgundy,  by  honor  of  thy  house, 

Prick'd    on    by    public    wrongs    sustain'd    in 
France, 

Either  to  get  the  town  again  or  die : 

And  I,  as  sure  as  English  Henry  lives,  80 

And  as  his  father  here  was  conquerer, 

As  sure  as  in  this  late-betrayed  town 

67.  "Signior";  the  courtly  term  is  used  with  ironical  politeness. — 
C.  H.  H. 

73.  "God  be  wi'  you";  Rowe's  emendation  of  Ff.,  "Ood  b'  uy."— 
I.  G. 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Great  Coeur-de-lion's  heart  was  buried, 
So  sure  I  swear  to  get  the  town  or  die. 

Bu?\  ]My  vows  are  equal  partners  with  thy  vows. 

Tal.  But,  ere  we  go,  regard  this  dying  prince, 
The   vaHant   Duke    of   Bedford.     Come,    my 

lord, 
We  will  bestow  you  in  some  better  place. 
Fitter  for  sickness  and  for  crazy  age. 

Bed.  Lord  Talbot,  do  not  so  dishonor  me:  90 

Here  will  I  sit  before  the  walls  of  Rouen 
And  will  be  partner  of  your  weal  or  woe. 

Bur.  Courageous  Bedford,  let  us  now  persuade 
you. 

Bed.  Not  to  be  gone  from  hence ;  for  once  I  read 
That  stout  Pendragon  in  his  litter  sick 
Came  to  the  field  and  vanquished  his  foes: 
Methinks  I  should  revive  the  soldiers'  hearts. 
Because  I  ever  found  them  as  myself. 

Tal.  Undaunted  spirit  in  a  dying  breast! 

Then    be    it-  so :    heavens    keep    old    Bedford 
safe!  100 

And  now  no  more  ado,  brave  Burgundy, 
But  gather  we  our  forces  out  of  hand 
And  set  upon  our  boasting  enemy. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Bedford  and  Attendants. 

'An  alarum:  excursions.    Enter  Sir  John  Fastolfe 

and  a  Captain. 

Cap.  Whither  away.  Sir  John  Falstolfe,  in  such 
haste? 

95.  "Pendragon,"  Uther  Pendragon,  the  father  of  King  Arthur. — 
C.  H.  H. 

80 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  u. 

Fast.  Whither  away!  to  save  myself  by  flight: 

We  are  hke  to  have  the  overtlirow  again. 
Cap.  What!  will  you  fly,  and  leave  Lord  Talbot? 
Fast.  Aye, 

All  the  Talbots  in  the  world,  to  save  my  life. 

[Ejcit. 
Cap.  Cowardly  knight!  ill  fortmie  follow  thee! 

[Exit. 

Retreat:  excursions.    La  PiiceUe,  Alengon^  and 

Charles  fly. 

Bed.  Now,     quiet     soul,     depart     when     heaven 
please,  11^ 

For  I  have  seen  our  enemies'  overthrow. 

What  is  the  trust  or  strength  of  foolish  man? 

Thej^  that  of  late  were  daring  with  their  scoff's 

Are  glad  and  fain  by  flight  to  save  themselves. 
[Bedford  dies,  and  is  carried  in  by  two  in  his  chair. 

An  alarum.     Re-enter  Talbot,  Burgundy^  and 

the  rest. 

Tal.  Lost,  and  recover'd  in  a  day  again ! 
This  is  a  double  honor,  Burgundy: 
Yet  heavens  have  glory  for  this  victory ! 

114.  This  scene  of  feigning,  fighting,  jesting,  dying,  and  running 
away,  is  a  fiction  of  the  Poet's;  though  there  are  several  passages 
in  the  war  in  France,  that  might  have  furnished  a  hint  and  basis 
for  it.  The  regent  died  quietly  in  his  bed  at  Rouen,  September  14, 
1435,  and  was  buried  in  the  Cathedral.  It  is  said  that  some  years 
after  Louis  XI,  being  urged  to  remove  his  bones  and  deface  his 
monument,  replied, — "I  will  not  war  with  the  remains  of  a  prince 
who  was  once  a  match  for  your  fathers  and  mine;  and  who,  were 
he  now  alive,  would  make  the  proudest  of  us  tremble.  Let  his  ashes 
rest  in  peace,  and  may  the  Almighty  have  mercy  on  his  soul!"— 
H.  N.  H. 

81 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Bur.  Warlike  and  martial  Talbot,  Burgundy 
Enshrines  thee  in  his  heart  and  there  erects 
Thy  noble  deeds  as  valor's  monuments.  120 

Tal.  Thanks,  gentle  duke.     But  where  is  Pucelle 
now  ? 
I  think  her  old  familiar  is  asleep: 
Now  where  's  the  Bastard's  braves,  and  Charles 

his  gleeks? 
What,  all  amort?     Rouen  hangs  her  head  for 

grief 
That  such  a  valiant  company  are  fled. 
Now  will  we  take  some  order  in  the  town, 
Placing  therein  some  expert  officers, 
And  then  depart  to  Paris  to  the  king. 
For  there  young  Henry  with  his  nobles  lie. 

Bur.  What  wills  Lord  Talbot  pleaseth  Burgundy. 

Tal.  But  yet,  before  we  go,  let 's  not  forget      131 
The  noble  Duke  of  Bedford  late  deceased, 
But  see  his  exequies  fulfiil'd  in  Rouen: 
.  A  braver  soldier  never  couched  lance, 
A  gentler  heart  did  never  sway  in  court ; 
But  kings  and  mightiest  potentates  must  die. 
For  that's  the  end  of  human  misery.     \_Eoceunt. 

11^.  "and  martial";  Collier  MS.,  "and  matchless" ;  Vaughan,  "un- 
matchable." — I.  G. 

126.  "take  some  order"  adopt  some  measures. — C.  H.  H. 


82 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

Scene  III 

The  plains  near  Rouen. 

Enter  Charles,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  Alenfon, 
La  Pucelle,  and  forces. 

Puc.  Dismay  not,  princes,  at  this  accident, 
Nor  grieve  that  Rouen  is  so  recovered; 
Care  is  no  cure,  but  rather  corrosive, 
For  things  that  are  not  to  be  remedied. 
Let  frantic  Talbot  triumph  for  a  while 
And  like  a  peacock  sweep  along  his  tail; 
We  '11  pull  his  plumes  and  take  away  his  train, 
If  Dauphin  and  the  rest  wdll  be  but  ruled. 

Char.  We  have  been  guided  by  thee  hitherto, 

And  of  thy  cunning  had  no  diffidence:  10 

One  sudden  foil  shall  never  breed  distrust. 

Bast.  Search  out  thy  wit  for  secret  policies. 

And  we  will  make  thee  famous  through  the 
world. 

Alen.  We  '11  set  thy  statue  in  some  holy  place, 
And  have  thee  reverenced  like  a  blessed  saint: 
Employ  thee  then,  sweet  virgin,  for  our  good. 

Piic.  Then  thus  it  must  be;  this  doth  Joan  devise: 
By  fair  persuasions  mix'd  with  sugar'd  words 
We  will  entice  the  Duke  of  Burgundy 
To  leave  the  Talbot  and  to  follow  us.  20 

Char.  Aye,  marry,  sweeting,  if  we  could  do  that, 
France  were  no  place  for  Henry's  warriors; 
Nor  should  that  nation  boast  it  so  with  us. 
But  be  extirped  from  our  provinces. 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Alen.  For   ever   should   they    be    expulsed    from 
France, 
And  not  have  title  of  an  earldom  here. 
Puc.  Your  honors  shall  perceive  how  I  will  work 
To  bring  this  matter  to  the  wished  end. 

[Drum  sounds  afar  off. 
Hark !  by  the  sound  of  drum  you  may  perceive 
Their  powers  are  marching  unto  Paris-ward.   30 

Here  sound  an  English  march.     Enter^  and  pass 
over  at  a  distance,  Talbot  and  his  forces. 

There  goes  the  Talbot,  with  his  colors  spread, 
And  all  the  troops  of  English  after  him. 

French  march.     Enter  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  and 

forces. 

Now  in  the  rearward  comes  the  duke  and  his: 
Fortune  in  favor  makes  him  lag  behind. 
Summon  a  parley ;  we  will  talk  with  him. 

Trumpets  sound  a  parley. 
Char.  A  parley  with  the  Duke  of  Burgundy! 
Btir.  Who  craves  a  parley  with  the  Burgundy? 
Puc.  The  princely  Charles  of  France,  thy  coun- 
tryman. 
Bur.  WKat  say'st  thou,  Charles?  for  I  am  march- 
ing hence. 
Char.  Speak,  Pucelle,  and  enchant  him  with  thy 
words.  40 

Puc.  Brave  Burgundy,  undoubted  hope  of  France! 

Stay,  let  thy  humble  handmaid  speak  to  thee. 
Bur.  Speak  on;  but  be  not  over-tedious. 
Puc.  Look  on  thy  country,  look  on  fertile  France, 

84 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  in.  Sc.  m. 

And  see  the  cities  and  the  towns  defaced 
By  wasting  ruin  of  the  cruel  foe. 
As  looks  the  mother  on  her  lowly  babe 
When  death  doth  close  his  tender  dying  eyes, 
See,  see  the  pining  malady  of  France;  49 

Beliold  the  wounds,  the  most  unnatural  wounds. 
Which  thou  thyself  hast  given  her  woful  breast. 
O,  turn  thy  edged  sword  another  way; 
Strike  those  that  hurt,  and  hurt  not  those  that 

help. 
One  drop  of  blood  drawn  from  thy  country's 

bosom 
Should  grieve  thee  more  than  streams  of  for- 
eign gore: 
Return  thee  therefore  with  a  flood  of  tears, 
And  wash  away  thy  country's  stained  spots. 
Bur.  Either  she  hath  bewitch'd  me  with  her  words, 

Or  nature  makes  me  suddenly  relent. 
Puc.  Besides,  all  French  and  France  exclaims  on 
thee,  60 

Doubting  thy  birth  and  lawful  progeny. 
Who  join'st  thou  with  but  with  a  lordly  nation 
That  will  not  trust  thee  but  for  profit's  sake? 
When  Talbot  hath  set  footing  once  in  France 
And  fashion'd  thee  that  instrument  of  ill. 
Who  then  but  English  Henry  will  be  lord, 
And  thou  be  thrust  out  like  a  fugitive? 
Call  we  to  mind,  and  mark  but  this  for  proof, 
W^as  not  the  Duke  of  Orleans  thy  foe? 

69-73.  Throughout  this  play  the  Poet  takes  great  hberties  with  the 
order  of  events,  shuffliiifr  them  back  and  forth  without  much  regard 
to   their   actual    succession.     The    duke    of    Orleans,    who    had    been 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF. 

And  was  lie  not  in  England  prisoner?  70 

But  when  they  heard  he  was  thine  enemy, 
They  set  hini  free  without  his  ransom  paid, 
In  spite  of  Burgundy  and  all  his  friends. 
See,  then,  thou  fight 'st  against  thy  countrymen 
And  join'st  with  them  will  be  thy  slaughter- 
men. 
Come,  come,  return;  return,  thou  wandering 

lord; 
Charles  and  the  rest  will  take  thee  in  their  arms. 
^ur.  I  am  vanquished;  these  haughty  words  of 
hers 
Have  batter'd  me  like  roaring  cannon-shot. 
And  made  me  almost  yield  upon  my  knees.     80 
Forgive,  me,  country,  and  sweet  countrymen, 
And,  lords,  accept  this  hearty  kind  embrace: 
My  forces  and  my  power  of  men  are  yours : 
So  farewell,  Talbot;  I  '11  no  longer  trust  thee. 

taken  prisoner  at  the  battle  of  Agincourt  in  1415,  and  retained  as 
such  in  England  ever  since,  was  not  released  till  November,  1440, 
which  was  more  than  five  years  after  the  defection  of  Burgundy 
from  the  English  cause.  The  long  captivity  of  Orleans  was  partly 
owing  to  the  duke  of  Burgundy,  there  being  an  old  grudge  between 
the  two  families;  Burgundy  still  persuading  the  English  to  demand 
a  larger  ransom  than  Orleans  was  able  to  pay.  Now  the  former 
sought  the  enlargement  of  his  rival,  and,  to  secure  his  friendship, 
paid  the  ransom,  and  effected  a  marriage  of  him  with  his  niece, 
Mary  of  Cleves.  England,  however,  would  not  release  Orleans 
till  he  bound  himself  to  return  at  the  end  of  a  year,  unless  he 
could  induce  the  French  king  to  a  final  peace;  and  engaged  at 
the  same  time  to  pay  back  the  money  on  the  signing  of  the  treaty 
or  the  return  of  the  captive.  The  duke  being  for  some  time  ex- 
cluded from  the  French  court  through  the  intrigues  of  favorites, 
the  time  for  his  return  was  prolonged;  till  at  last,  in  1444,  he 
brought  about  an  armistice  for  two  years,  and  there  the  matter 
seems  to  have  ended. — H.  N.  H. 


86 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Puc.  [Aside]  Done  like  a  Frenchman:  turn,  and 

turn  again! 
Cha?\  Welcome,  brave  duke;  thy  friendship  makes 

us  fresh. 
Bast,  And  doth  beget  new  courage  in  our  breasts. 
Alen.  Pucelle  hath  bravely  play'd  her  part  in  this, 

And  doth  deserve  a  coronet  of  gold. 
Char.  Now  let  us  on,  my  lords,  and  join  our  pow- 
ers, 90 
And  seek  how  we  may  prejudice  the  foe. 

[Ej:cunt. 


Scene  IV 

Paris.     The  palace. 

Enter  the  King,  Gloucester,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
York,  Suffolk,  Somerset,  Wandck,  Exeter: 
Vernon,  Basset,  and  others.  To  them  xdlh  his 
Soldiers,  Talbot. 

Tal.  My  gracious  prince,  and  honorable  peers. 
Hearing  of  your  arrival  in  this  realm, 
I  have  aA\'hile  given  truce  unto  my  wars, 
To  do  my  duty  to  my  sovereign : 
In  sign  whereof,  this  arm,  that  hath  reclaim'd 
To  your  obedience  fifty  fortresses, 

85.  "Done  Ukc  a  Frenchman:  turn,  and  turn  again";  "the  in- 
cojistancy  of  the  French  was  always  a  subject  of  satire.  I  have 
read  a  dissertation  to  prove  that  the  index  of  the  wind  upon  our 
steeples  was  made  in  form  of  a  cock  to  ridicule  the  French  for 
their  frequent  clianges"  (Johnson). — H.  N.  H. 


87 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Twelve    cities    and    seven    walled    towns    of 

strength, 
Beside  five  hundred  prisoners  of  esteem, 
Lets  fall  his  sword  before  your  highness'  feet, 
And  wdth  submissive  loyalty  of  heart  10 

Ascribes  the  glory  of  his  conquest  got 
First  to  my  God  and  next  unto  your  grace. 

[Kneels 

King.  Is  this  the  Lord  Talbot,  uncle  Gloucester, 
That  hath  so  long  been  resident  in  France  ? 

Glou.  Yes,  if  it  please  your  majesty,  my  liege. 

King.  Welcome,  brave  captain  and  victorious  lord  I 
When  I  was  young,  as  yet  I  am  not  old. 
I  do  remember  how  my  father  said 
A  stouter  champion  never  handled  sword. 
Long  since  we  were  resolved  of  your  truth,    20 
Your  faithful  service  and  your  toil  in  war; 
Yet  never  have  you  tasted  our  reward. 
Or  been  reguerdon'd  with  so  much  as  thanks. 
Because  till  now  we  never  saw  your  face: 
Therefore,  stand  up:  and,  for  these  good  de- 
serts, 
V/e  here  create  you  Earl  of  Shrewsbury; 
And  in  our  coronation  take  your  place. 

18.  "I  do  remember" ;  "Henry  was  but  nine  months  old  when  his 
father  died,  and  never  even  saw  him"  (Malone). — H.  N.  H. 

26.  Talbot  was  not  made  earl  of  Shrewsbury  till  1442,  more  than 
ten  years  after  the  crowning  of  Henry  at  Paris.  And  the  honor 
was  not  conferred  at  Paris,  but  at  London.  The  matter  is  thus 
stated  by  Holinshed:  "About  this  season  John,  the  valiant  lord 
Talbot,  for  his  approved  prowesse  and  wisdome,  as  well  in  Eng- 
land as  in  France,  both  in  peace  and  warre  so  well  tried,  was  cre- 
ated earle  of  Shrewsburie,  and  with  a  companie  of  three  thousand 
men  sent  againe  into  Normandie,  for  the  better  defense  of  the 
same."— H.  N.  H. 

88 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  So.  iv. 

[Sennet.     Flourish.     Ejceunt  all  but  Vernon  and 

Basset. 

Ver.  Now,  sir,  to  you,  that  were  so  hot  at  sea, 
Disgracing  of  these  colors  that  I  wear 
In  honor  of  my  noble  Lord  of  York: —  30 

Darest  thou  maintain  the  former  words  thou 
spakest  ? 

Bas.  Yes,  sir ;  as  well  as  you  dare  patronage 
The  envious  barking  of  your  saucy  tongue 
Against  my  lord  the  Duke  of  Somerset. 

Ver.  Sirrah,  thy  lord  I  honor  as  he  is. 

Bas.  Why,  w^uit  is  he?  as  good  a  man  as  York. 

Ver.  Hark  ye ;  not  so :  in  witness,  take  ye  that. 

[Strikes  him. 

Bas.  Villain,  thou  know'st  the  law  of  arms  is  such 
That  whoso  draws  a  sword,  'tis  present  death. 
Or  else  this  blow  should  broach  thy   dearest 
blood.  '10 

But  I  '11  unto  his  majesty,  and  crave 
I  may  have  liberty  to  venge  this  wrong; 
When  thou  shalt  see  I  '11  meet  thee  to  thy  cost. 

Ver.  Well,  miscreant,  I  '11  be  there  as  soon  as  you; 
And,  after,  meet  you  sooner  than  you  would. 

[Exeunt. 

38.  "the  law  of  arms  is  such";  "By  the  ancient  law  before  the 
Conquest,  fighting  in  the  kings  palace,  or  before  the  king's  judges, 
was  punished  with  death.  And  by  Statute  33,  Henry  VIII,  malicious 
striking  in  the  king's  palace,  whereby  blood  is  drawn,  is  punishable 
by  perpetual  imprisonment  and  fine  at  the  king's  pleasure  and  also 
with  loss  of  the  offender's  right  hand." — Blackstone. 


8.9 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 


ACT  FOURTH 
Scene  I 

Paris.     A  hall  of  state. 

Enter  the  King,  Gloucester,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
York,  Suffolk,  Somerset,  Warwick,  Talbot, 
Exeter,  the  Governor  of  Paris,  and  others. 

Glou.  Lord  bishop,  set  the  crown  upon  his  head. 

Win.  God  save  King  Henry,  of  that  name  the 
sixth ! 

Glou.  Now,  governor  of  Paris,  take  your  oath, 
That  you  elect  no  other  king  but  him; 
Esteem  none  friends  but  such  as  are  his  friends, 
And  none  your  foes  but  such  as  shall  pretend 
Malicious  practices  against  his  state: 
This  shall  ye  do,  so  help  you  righteous  God! 

Enter  Sir  John  Fastolfe. 

Fast.  My   gracious    sovereign,    as    I    rode    from 
Calais, 
To  haste  unto  your  coronation,  10 

6.  "Pretend"  was  often  used  in  the  sense  of  purpose,  or  design. 
— H.  N.  H. 

10.  The  crowning  of  King  Henry  at  Paris  took  place  December 
17,  1431.  Concerning  that  event  Holinshed  has  the  following:  "To 
speake  with  what  honour  he  was  received  into  the  citie  of  Paris, 
what   pageants   were   prepared,   and   how   richlie  the   gates,   streets, 

90 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  i. 

A  letter  was  deliver'd   to  my  hands, 
Writ  to  your  grace  from  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy. 
Tal.  Shame  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  and  thee! 
I  vow'd,  base  knight,  when  I  did  meet  thee 

next, 
To  tear  the  garter  from  thy  craven's  leg, 

[Plucking  it  off. 
Which  I  have  done,  because  unworthily 
Thou  wast  installed  in  that  high  degree. 
Pardon  me,  princely  Henry,  and  the  rest: 
This  dastard,  at  the  battle  of  Patay,  19 

When  but  in  all  I  was  six  thousand  strong 
And  that  the  French  were  almost  ten  to  one, 

bridges  on  everie  side  were  hanged  with  costlie  clothes  of  arras 
and  tapestrie,  it  would  be  too  long  a  processe,  and  therefore  I  doo 
heere  passe  it  over  with  silence."  Nevertheless  the  occasion  was 
but  poorly  attended  save  by  foreigners,  none  of  the  higher  French 
nobility  gracing  it  with  tiieir  presence.  The  ceremony  of  coronation 
was  of  old  thought  to  have  a  kind  of  sacramental  virtue,  confirming 
the  title  of  a  new  king,  and  rendering  his  person  sacred.  Thus  the 
crowning  of  Charles  at  Rheims,  which  took  place  in  July,  1429, 
operated  as  a  charm  to  engage  the  loyalty  of  the  people;  and  it 
was  with  this  view  that  Joan  of  Arc  urged  it  on  so  vehemently, 
declaring  it  the  main  purpose  of  her  celestial  mission;  and  during 
the  ceremony  she  stood  at  the  king's  side  with  her  banner  unfurled, 
and  as  soon  as  it  was  over  fell  on  her  knees,  embraced  his  feet,  said 
her  mission  was  at  an  end,  and  begged  with  tears  that  she  might 
return  to  her  former  station.  Charles  indeed  had  been  crowned  once 
before,  but  it  was  not  done  at  Rheims,  the  ancient  place  of  that 
ceremony,  and  therefore  it  proved  ineffectual.  This  good  old  local 
religion  put  the  regent  upon  great  efforts  to  have  Henry  crowned 
there;  but  herein  he  was  still  baffled,  and,  after  trying  about  two 
years,  he  concluded  to  have  it  done  at  Paris,  rather  than  not  at  all. 
The  ceremony  was  performed  by  the  bishop  of  Winchester,  thea 
cardinal. — H.  N.  H. 

19.  "at  the  battle  of  Patay";  Capell's  emendation  (adopted  by 
Mfilone)  of  "Poktiers"  of  the  Ff.  The  battle  of  Poictiers  was  fought 
1357;  the  date  of  the  present  scene  is  lti?8.— I.  G. 

91 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Before  we  met  or  that  a  stroke  was  given, 
Like  to  a  trusty  squire  did  run  away : 
In  which  assault  we  lost  twelve  hundred  men; 
Myself  and  divers  gentlemen  beside 
Were  there  surprised  and  taken  prisoners. 
Then  judge,  great  lords,  if  I  have  done  amiss; 
Or  whether  that  such  cowards  ought  to  wear 
This  ornament  of  knighthood,  yea  or  no. 

Gloii.  To  say  the  truth,  this  fact  was  infamous    30 
And  ill  beseeming  any  common  man, 
Much  more  a  knight,  a  captain  and  a  leader. 

Tal.  When  first  this  order  was  ordain'd,  my  lords. 
Knights  of  the  garter  were  of  noble  birth, 
Valiant  and  virtuous,  full  of  haughty  courage. 
Such  as  were  grown  to  credit  by  the  wars; 
Not  fearing  death,  nor  shrinking  for  distress. 
But  always  resolute  in  most  extremes. 
He  then  that  is  not  furnish'd  in  this  sort 
Doth  but  usurp  the  sacred  name  of  knight,     40 
Profaning  this  most  honorable  order, 
And  should,  if  I  were  worthy  to  be  judge, 
Be  quite  degraded,  like  a  hedge-born  swain 
That  doth  presume  to  boast  of  gentle  blood. 

King.  Stain  to  thy  countrymen,  thou  hear'st  thy 
doom! 
Be  packing,  therefore,  thou  that  wast  a  knight: 
Henceforth  we  banish  thee,  on  pain  of  death. 

[Eocit  Fastolfe. 
And  now,  my  lord  protector,  view  the  letter 
^ent  from  our  uncle  Duke  of  Burgundy. 

38.  "most,"  utmost.  -C.  H.  H. 

92 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Olou.  What  means  his  grace,  that  he  hath  changed 
his    style  ?  50 

No  more  but,  plain  and  bluntly,  'To  the  kingl' 
Hath  he  forgot  he  is  his  sovereign? 
Or  doth  this  churlish  superscription 
Pretend  some  alteration  in  good  will? 
What 's  here  ?  [Reads]  'I  have,  upon  especial 

cause, 
Gloved  with  compassion  of  my  country's  wreck, 
Together  with  the  pitiful  complaints 
Of  such  as  your  oppression  feeds  upon, 
Forsaken  your  pernicious  faction, 
And  join'd  with  Charles,  the  rightful  King  of 
France.'  60 

O  monstrous  treacherv !  can  this  be  so, 
That  in  alliance,  amity  and  oaths. 
There  should  be  found  such  false  dissembling 
guile? 
King.  What!  doth  my  uncle  Burgundy  revolt? 
Glou.  He  doth,  my  lord,  and  is  become  your  foe. 
King.  Is  that  the  worst  this  letter  doth  contain? 
Glou.  It  is  the  worst,  and  all,  my  lord,  he  writes. 
King.  Why,  then,  Lord  Talbot  there  shall  talk 
with  him, 
And  give  him  chastisement  for  this  abuse. 
How  say  you,  my  lord?  are  you  not  content?    70 
Tal.  Content,  my  liege!  yes,  but  that  I  am  pre- 
vented, 

54.  "pretend"  here  bears  the  literal  sense  of  hold  out ;  not  the  same 
as  that  explained  in  tlie  note  to  line  6  of  this  scene. — H.  Jv.   H. 
71.  "prevented,"  anticipated.— C.  11.  H. 


93 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

I  should  have  begg'd  I  might  have  been  em- 
ploy'd. 
King.  Then  gather  strength,  and  march  unto  him 
straight : 
Let  him  perceive  how  ill  we  brook  his  treason, 
And  what  offence  it  is  to  flout  his  friends. 
TaL  I  go,  my  lord,  in  heart  desiring  still 
You  may  behold  confusion  of  your  foes. 

Enter  Vernon  and  Basset. 

Ver.  Grant  me  the  combat,  gracious  sovereign. 
Bas.  And  me,  my  lord,  grant  me  the  combat  too. 
York.  This  is  my  servant:  hear  him,  noble 

prince.  80 

Som.  And  this  is  mine:  sweet  Henry,  favor  him. 

King.  Be  patient,  lords;  and  give  them  leave  to 

speak. 

Say,  gentlemen,  what  makes  you  thus  exclaim? 

And   wherefore    crave   you     combat?  or    with 

whom? 

Ver.  With  him,  my  lord;  for  he  hath  done  me 

wrong. 
Bas.  And  I  with  him ;  for  he  hath  done  me  wrong. 
King.  What  is  that  wrong  whereof  you  both  com- 
plain? 
First  let  me  know,  and  then  I  '11  answer  you. 
Bas.  Crossing  the  sea  from  England  into  France, 
This  fellow  here,  with  envious  carping  tongue, 

78.  "combat,"  i.  e.  the  right  of  single  combat,  for  which,  in  the 

precincts  of  the  court,  the  king's  permission  had  to  be  obtained. — 
C.  H.  H. 

94 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Upbraided  me  about  the  rose  I  wear;  91 

Saying,  the  sanguine  color  of  the  leaves 

Did  represent  my  master's  blushing  cheeks, 

When  stubbornly  he  did  repugn  the  truth 

About  a  certain  question  in  the  law 

Argued  betwixt  the  Duke  of  York  and  him; 

With  other  vile  and  ignominious  terms: 

In  confutation  of  which  rude  reproach. 

And  in  defense  of  my  lord's  worthiness, 

I  crave  the  benefit  of  law  of  arms.  100 

Ver.  And  that  is  my  petition,  noble  lord : 

For  though  he  seem  with  forged  quaint  conceit 
To  set  a  gloss  upon  his  bold  intent, 
Yet  know,  my  lord,  I  was  provoked  by  him; 
And  he  first  took  exceptions  at  this  badge, 
Pronouncing  that  the  paleness  of  this  flower 
Bewray'd  the  faintness  of  my  master's  heart. 

YorJx.  Will  not  this  malice,  Somerset,  be  left? 

Som.  Your  private  grudge,  my  Lord  of  York,  will 
out, 
Though  ne'er  so  cunningly  you  smother  it.    HO 

King.  Good  Lord,  what  madness  rules  in  brainsick 
men. 
When  for  so  slight  and  frivolous  a  cause 
Such  factious  emulations  shall  arise! 
Good  cousins  both,  of  York  and  Somerset, 
Quiet  yourselves,  I  pray,  and  be  at  peace. 

York.  Let  this  dissension  first  be  tried  bj^  fight. 
And  then  your  highness  shall  command  a  peace. 

Som.  The  quarrel  toucheth  none  but  us  alone; 

102.  "forged  quaint  conceit,"  ingenious  fabrication. — C.  H.  H. 
12  95 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Betwixt  ourselves  let  us  decide  it  then.  119 

York.  There  is  my  pledge;  accept  it,  Somerset. 

Ver.  Nay,  let  it  rest  where  it  began  at  first. 

Bas.  Confirm  it  so,  mine  honorable  lord. 

Glou.  Confirm  it  so!    Confounded  be  your  strife! 
And  perish  ye,  with  your  audacious  prate! 
Presumptuous  vassals,  are  you  not  ashamed 
With  this  immodest  clamorous  outrage 
To  trouble  and  disturb  the  king  and  us? 
And  you,  my  lords,  methinks  you  do  not  well 
To  bear  with  their  perverse  objections;  129 

Much  less  to  take  occasion  from  their  mouths 
To  raise  a  mutiny  betwixt  yourselves: 
Let  me  persuade  you  take  a  better  course. 

Exe.  It  grieves  his  highness:  good  my  lords,  be 
friends. 

King.  Come  hither,  you  that  would  be  combatants : 
Henceforth  I  charge  you,  as  you  love  our  favor, 
Quite  to  forget  this  quarrel  and  the  cause. 
And  you,  my  lords,  remember  where  we  are; 
In  France,  amongst  a  fickle  wavering  nation : 
If  they  perceive  dissension  in  our  looks 
And  that  within  ourselves  we  disagree,  140 

How  will  their  grudging  stomachs  be  provoked 
To  willful  disobedience,  and  rebel! 
Beside,  what  infamy  will  there  arise. 
When  foreign  princes  shall  be  certified 
That  for  a  toy,  a  thing  of  no  regard. 
King  Henry's  peers  and  chief  nobility 
Destroy'd  themselves,  and  lost  the  realm  of 
France 

141.  "stomachs,"  spirits.— C.  H.  H. 
9Q 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  iv.  Sc.  i. 

O,  think  upon  the  conquest  of  my  father, 
My  tender  years,  and  let  us  not  forgo 
That  for  a  trifle  that  was  bought  with  blood  I 
Let  me  be  umpire  in  this  doubtful  strife.        151 
I  see  no  reason,  if  I  wear  this  rose, 

[Putting  on  a  red  rose. 
That  any  one  should  therefore  be  suspicious 
I  more  inchne  to  Somerset  than  York: 
Both  are  my  kinsmen,  and  I  love  them  both: 
As  well  they  may  upbraid  me  with  my  crown, 
Because,  forsooth,  the  king  of  Scots  is  crown'd. 
But  your  discretions  better  can  persuade 
Than  I  am  able  to  instruct  or  teach; 
And  therefore,  as  M^e  hither  came  in  peace,    160 
So  let  us  still  continue  peace  and  love. 
Cousin  of  York,  we  institute  your  grace 
To  be  our  regent  in  these  parts  of  France : 
And,  good  my  Lord  of  Somerset,  unite 
Your  troops  of  horsemen  with  his  bands  of 

foot ; 
And,  like  true  subjects,  sons  of  your  progeni- 
tors, 
Go  cheerfully  together  and  digest 
Your  angry  choler  on  your  enemies. 
Ourself ,  my  lord  protector  and  the  rest 
After  some  respite  wull  return  to  Calais ;        170 
From  thence  to  England;  where  I  hope  ere 

long 
To  be  presented,  by  your  victories. 
With  Charles,  Alen^on  and  that  traitorous  rout. 
IFloiirish.     Exeunt  all  hut  York,  War- 
wickj  Exeter  and  Vernon, 

Shk-l-16  97 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

War.  My  Lord  of  York,  I  promise  you,  the  king 
Prettily,  methought,  did  play  the  orator. 

York.  And  so  he  did ;  but  yet  I  like  it  not. 
In  that  he  wears  the  badge  of  Somerset. 

War.  Tush,  that  was  but  his  fancy,  blame  him  not ; 
I  dare  presume,  sweet  prince,  he  thought  no 
harm. 

York.  An  if  I  wist  he  did, — but  let  it  rest ;         180 
Other  affairs  must  now  be  managed. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Exeter. 

Exe.  Well  didst  thou,  Richard,  to  suppress  thy 
voice ; 
For,  had  the  passions  of  thy  heart  burst  out, 
I  fear  we  should  have  seen  decipher'd  there 
JNIore    rancorous   spite,    more    furious    raging 

broils. 
Than  yet  can  be  imagined  or  supposed. 
But  howsoe'er,  no  simple  man  that  sees 
This  jarring  discord  of  nobility. 
This  shouldering  of  each  other  in  the  court, 
This  factious  bandying  of  their  favorites,      190 
But  that  it  doth  presage  some  ill  event. 
'Tis  much  when  scepters  are  in  children's  hands ; 
But  more  when  envy  breeds  unkind  division; 
There  comes  the  ruin,  there  begins  confusion. 

[Exit. 

180.  "An  if  I  wist  he  did,"  Capell;  Ff.,  "And  if  I  wish  he  did"; 
Rowe,  "And  if  I  wish  he  did. — ";  Theobald  (in  text),  "An  if  I  wis 
he  did. — ";  (in  note),  "A^id  if  I  wis,  he  did. — ";  Johnson,  "And  if — 
I  wish — he  did — "  or  "And  if  he  did, — /  wish — ";  Steevens,  "And,  if 
I  wist,  he  did, — ." — I.  G. 

193.  "Envy,"  in  old  English  writers,  frequently  means  malice,  en- 
mity.   "Unkind"  is  unnatural, — H.  N.  H. 

98 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  u. 


Scene  II 

Before  Bordeaux, 

Enter  Talhot,  with  trump  and  drum. 

Tal.  Go  to  the  gates  of  Bordeaux,  trumpeter : 
Summon  their  general  unto  the  wall. 

Trumpet  sounds.     Enter  General  and  others,  aloft^ 

English  John  Talbot,  captains,  calls  you  forth, 
Servant  in  arms  to  Harry  King  of  England; 
And  thus  he  would :  Open  your  city-gates ; 
Be  humble  to  us;  call  my  sovereign  yours, 
And  do  him  homage  as  obedient  subjects; 
And  I  '11  withth'aw  me  and  my  bloody  power : 
But,  if  you  frown  upon  this  proff er'd  peace, 
You  tempt  the  fury  of  my  three  attendants,    10 
Lean  famine,  quartering  steel,   and  climbing 

fire; 
Who  in  a  moment  even  with  the  earth 
Shall  lay  your  stately  and  air-braving  towers, 
If  you  forsake  the  offer  of  their  love. 
Gen.  Thou  ominous  and  fearful  owl  of  death. 
Our  nation's  terror  and  their  bloody  scourge ! 
The  period  of  thy  tyranny  approacheth. 
On  us  thou  canst  not  enter  but  by  death ; 
For,  I  protest,  we  are  well  fortified 
And  strong  enough  to  issue  out  and  fight:        20 
If  thou  retire,  the  Dauphin,  well  appointed, 

14.  "their  love";  Hanmer,  "our  love."—h  G. 
99 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Stands  with  the  snares  of  war  to  tangle  thee : 
On  either  hand  thee  there  are  squadrons  pitch'd, 
To  wall  thee  from  the  liberty  of  flight ; 
And  no  way  canst  thou  turn  thee  for  redress, 
But  death  doth  front  thee  with  apparent  spoil, 
And  pale  destruction  meets  thee  in  the  face. 
Ten  thousand  French  have  ta'en  the  sacrament 
To  rive  their  dangerous  artillery 
Upon  no  Christian  soul  but  English  Talbot.     30 
Lo,    there   thou   stand'st,    a   breathing   valiant 

man, 
Of  an  invincible  unconquer'd  spirit! 
This  is  the  latest  glory  of  thy  praise 
That  I,  thy  enemy,  due  thee  withal; 
For  ere  the  glass,  that  now  begins  to  run, 
Finish  the  process  of  his  sandy  hour, 
These  eyes,  that  see  thee  now  well  colored. 
Shall  see  thee  wither'd,  bloody,  pale  and  dead. 

[Drum  afar  off. 
Hark!  hark!  the  Dauphin's  drum,  a  warning 

bell. 
Sings  heavy  music  to  thy  timorous  soul;         40 
And  mine  shall  ring  thy  dire  departure  out. 

[Exeunt  General,  etc. 
Tal.  He  fables  not;  I  hear  the  enemy: 

22.  "war";  Capell,  "death."— 1.  G. 

26.  "spoil";  Vaughan,  "steel."— J.  G. 

"apparent  spoil"  inevitable  ruin. — C.  H.  H. 

29.  "To  rive  their  dangerous  artillery"  is  merely  a  figurative  way 
of  expressing  to  discharge  it.  To  rive  is  to  burst;  and  burst  is 
applied  by  Shakespeare  more  than  once  to  thunder,  or  to  a  similar 
sound.— H.  N.   H. 

34.  "Due"  for  endue,  which  was  often  used  in  the  sense  of  invest. 
— H.  N.  H. 

100 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  iii. 

Out,   some   light  horsemen,   and   peruse   their 

wings. 
O,  negUgent  and  heedless  discipline! 
How  are  we  park'd  and  bounded  in  a  pale, 
A  little  herd  of  England's  timorous  deer, 
Mazed  with  a  yelping  kennel  of  French  curs! 
If  we  be  English  deer,  be  then  in  blood; 
Not  rascal-Hke,  to  fall  down  with  a  pinch. 
But  rather,  moody-mad  and  desperate  stags,    50 
Turn  on  the  bloody  hounds  with  heads  of  steel 
And  make  the  cowards  stand  aloof  at  bay: 
Sell  every  man  his  life  as  dear  as  mine, 
And  they  shall  find  dear  deer  of  us,  my  friends. 
God  and  Saint  George,  Talbot  and  England's 

right, 
Prosper  our  colors  in  this  dangerous  fight ! 

lEa:eunt. 


Scene  III 

Plains  in  Gascony. 

Enter  a  Messenger  that  meets  York.     Enter  York 
with  trumpet  and  many  Soldiers. 

York.  Are  not  the  speedy  scouts  return'd  again, 
That  dogg'd  the  mighty  army  of  the  Dauphin? 

48.  "in  blood,"  in  full  vigor  (a  term  of  the  chase). — C.  H.  H. 

49-51.  This  use  of  rascal  is  well  explained  by  a  passage  from  Vers- 
tegan's  RfStitution  of  Decayed  InteU'ujence,  1605:  "As  before  I 
have  showed  how  the  ill  names  of  beasts,  in  their  most  contempti- 
ble state,  are  in  contempt  applied  to  women;  so  is  rascall,  being 
the  name  for  an  ill-favoured,  Icnne,  and  wortlilesse  deere,  commonly 

101 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Mess.  They  are  return'd,  my  lord,  and  give  it  out 
That  he  is  march'd  to  Bordeaux  with  his  power, 
To  fight  with  Talbot :  as  he  march'd  along, 
By  your  espials  were  discovered 
Two  mightier  troops  than  that  the  Dauphin  led, 
Which  join'd  with  him  and  made  their  march 
for  Bordeaux. 

York.  A  plague  upon  that  villain  Somerset, 

That  thus  delays  my  promised  supply  1^ 

Of  horsemen,  that  were  levied  for  this  siege! 

Renowned  Talbot  doth  expect  my  aid, 

And  I  am  lowted  by  a  traitor  villain. 

And  cannot  help  the  noble  chevalier: 

God  comfort  him  in  this  necessity! 

If  he  miscariy,  farewell  wars  in  France. 

Enter  Sir  William  Lucy. 
Lucy.  Thou    princely    leader    of    our    Enghsh 
strength, 
Never  so  needful  on  the  earth  of  France, 
Spur  to  the  rescue  of  the  noble  Talbot, 
Who  now  is  girdled  with  a  waist  of  iron,        20 
And  hemm'd  about  with  grim  destruction : 
To    Bordeaux,    warlike    duke!    to    Bordeaux, 

York! 
Else,  farewell,  Talbot,  France,  and  England's 
honor. 
York.  O  God,  that  Somerset,  who  in  proud  heart 
Doth  stop  my  cornets,  were  in  Talbot's  place! 
So  should  we  save  a  vahant  gentleman 

applied  unto  such  men  as  are  held  of  no  credit  or  worth."  The 
figure  is  kept  up  by  using  heads  of  steel  for  lances,  referring  to  the 
deer's  horns. — H.  N.  H. 

102 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  ai 

By  forfeiting  a  traitor  and  a  coward. 
Mad  ire  and  wrathful  fury  makes  me  weep, 
That  thus  w-e  die,  while  remiss  traitors  sleep. 
Lucy.  O,  send  such  succor  to  the  distress'd  lord!   30 
York.  He  dies,  we  lose;  I  break  my  warlike  word; 
We  mourn,  France  smiles;  we  lose,  they  daily 

get; 
All  'long  of  this  vile  traitor  Somerset. 
Luci/.  Then  God  take  mercy  on  brave  Talbot's 

soul ; 
And  on  his  son  young  John,  who  two  hours 

since 
I  met  in  travel  toward  his  warlike  father! 
This  seven  years  did  not  Talbot  see  his  son; 
And  now  they  meet  where  both  their  lives  are 

done. 
York.  Alas,  w^hat  joy  shall  noble  Talbot  have. 
To  bid  his  young  son  welcome  to  his  grave?     40 
Away !  vexation  almost  stops  my  breath, 
That  sunder'd   friends  greet  in  the  hour  of 

death. 
Lucy,  farewell :  no  more  my  fortune  can. 
But  curse  the  cause  I  cannot  aid  the  man. 
Maine,  Blois,  Poictiers,  and  Tours,  are  won 

away, 
'Long  all  of  Somerset  and  his  delay. 

[Ecvit,  with  his  soldiers. 

33.  "Lony  all  of,"  that  is,  all  because  of,  by  means  or  by  reason 
of.  The  phrase  was  used  by  the  gravest  writers  in  the  Poet's  time. 
Hooker  has  it.— H.  N.  H. 

46.  On  the  death  of  Bedford  in  1435,  York  succeeded  him  in  the 
regency  of  France.  In  U37  he  was  superseded  by  Warwick,  who 
dying  about  two  years  after,  York  was  reappointed.  In  this  office 
Somerset  took  special  pains  to  cross  and  thwart  him.     The  effects 

103 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Lucy.  Thus,  while  the  vulture  of  sedition 

Feeds  in  the  bosom  of  such  great  commanders, 

Sleeping  neglection  doth  betray  to  loss 

The  conquest  of  our  scarce  cold  conqueror,    50 

That  ever  living  man  of  memory, 

Henry  the  Fifth:  whiles  they  each  other  cross, 

Lives,  honors,  lands  and  all  hurry  to  loss. 

[Eccit. 


Scene  IV 

Other  plains  in  Gascony. 

Enter  Somerset,  with  his  army;  a  Captain  of  Tal- 
bot's with  him. 

Som.  It  is  too  late;  I  cannot  send  them  now; 
This  expedition  was  by  York  and  Talbot 
Too  rashly  plotted:  all  our  general  force 
Might  with  a  sally  of  the  very  town 
Be  buckled  with:  the  over-daring  Talbot 

of  their  enmity  are  strongly  stated  by  Holinshed:  "Althought  the 
duke  of  York  was  worthie,  botii  for  birth  and  courage,  of  this  honor 
and  preferment,  yet  so  disdeined  of  the  duke  of  Summerset,  that 
by  all  means  possible  sought  his  hindrance,  as  one  glad  of  his  losse, 
and  sorie  of  his  well  dooing:  by  reason  whereof,  yer  the  duke  of 
York  could  get  his  despatch,  Paris  and  diverse  other  of  the  cheefest 
places  in  France  were  gotten  by  the  French  king.  The  duke  of  York, 
perceiving  his  evill  will,  openlie  dissembled  that  which  he  inwardlie 
minded,  either  of  them  working  things  to  the  others  displeasure, 
till,  through  malice  and  division  betweene  them,  at  length  by  mor- 
tall  warre,  they  were  both  consumed,  with  almost  all  their  whole 
lines  and  offspring." — H.  N.  H. 

47.  Alluding  to  the  tale  of  Prometheus.— H.  N.   H. 

51.  "That  ever  living  man  of  memory,"  i.  e.  that  ever  man  of  liv- 
ing memory.     Lettsom,  "man  of  ever-living." — I.  G. 

104. 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  iv. 

Hath  sullied  all  his  gloss  of  former  lionor 
By  this  unheedful,  desperate,  wild  adventure: 
York  set  him  on  to  fight  and  die  in  shame, 
That,  Talbot  dead,  great  York  might  bear  the 
name. 
Cap.  Here  is  Sir  William  Lucy,  who  with  me      10 
Set  from  our  o'er-match'd  forces  forth  for  aid. 

Enter  Sir  William  Lucy. 

Som.  How  now,  Sir  William!  whither  were  you 

sent  ? 
Lucy.  Whither,  my  lord?  from  bought  and  sold 

Lord  Talbot; 
Who,  ring'd  about  with  bold  adversity, 
Cries  out  for  noble  York  and  Somerset, 
To  beat  assailing  death  from  his  weak  legions : 
And  whiles  the  honorable  captain  there 
Drops  bloody  sweat  from  his  war-wearied  limbs, 
And,  in  advantage  lingering,  looks  for  rescue, 
You,  his  false  hopes,  the  trust  of  England's 

honor,  ^^ 

Keep  off  aloof  with  worthless  emulation. 
Let  not  your  private  discord  keep  away 
The  levied  succors  that  should  lend  him  aid, 
While  he,  renowned  noble  gentleman. 
Yields  up  his  life  unto  a  world  of  odds : 
Orleans  the  Bastard,  Charles,  Burgundy, 

16.  "legions,"  Howe's  emendation  of  Ff.  "Regions."— I.  G. 

19.  "in  advantage  lingering";  Staunton,  "in  disadvantage  ling'ring"; 
Lettsom,  "in  disvantage  lingering";  Vaughan,  "disadvantage  ling'r- 
ing." Johnson  explains  the  phrase,  "Protracting  his  resistance  by 
the  advantage  of  a  strong  post";  Malone,  "Endeavoring  by  every 
means,  with  advantage  to  himself,  to  linger  out  the  action."— I.  G. 

105 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Alen^on,  Reignier,  compass  him  about, 
And  Talbot  perisheth  by  your  default. 
Som,  York  set  him  on;  York  should  have  sent  him 

aid. 
Lucy.  And  York  as   fast  upon  your  grace  ex- 
claims ;  SO 
Swearing  that  you  witliliold  his  levied  host, 
Collected  for  this  expedition. 
Som.  York  lies;  he  might  have  sent  and  had  the 
horse : 
I  owe  him  little  duty,  and  less  love ; 
And  take  foul  scorn  to  fawn  on  him  by  sending. 
Lucy.  The  fraud  of  England,  not  the  force  of 
France, 
Hath  now  entrapp'd  the  noble-minded  Talbot: 
Never  to  England  shall  he  bear  his  life ; 
But  dies,  betray'd  to  fortune  by  your  strife. 
So7n.  Come,    go;    I   will   dispatch    the   horsemen 
straight :  40 
Within  six  hours  they  will  be  at  his  aid. 
Lucy.  Too  late  comes  rescue;  he  is  ta'en  or  slain; 
For  fly  he  could  not,  if  he  would  have  fled; 
And  fly  would  Talbot  never,  though  he  might. 
Som.  If  he  be  dead,  brave  Talbot,  then  adieu! 
Lucy.  His  fame  lives  in  the  world,  his  shame  in 
you.                                                    \_Ecveunt. 

31.  "host";  so  Ff.  3,  4;  Ff.  1,  2,  "hoast";  Theobald's  conjecture 
(adopted  by  Hanmer),  "horse." — I.  G. 

35.  "take  foul  scorn,"  I  scorn  (to  fawn  on  him)  as  a  foul  dis- 
grace.— C.  H.  H. 

42.  "rescue:  he  is";  Ff.  1,  2,  "rescue,  he  is";  Ff.  3,  4,  "rescue,  if 
he  is";  Rowe  (ed.  1)  "rescxie,  if  he's";  (ed  2)  "rescue,  he's";  Pope, 
"rescue  now,  he's." — I.  G. 

106 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  v. 


Scene  V 

The  English  camp  near  Bordeaux. 
Enter  Talbot  and  John  his  son, 

Tal.  O  young  John  Talbot !    I  did  send  for  thee 
To  tutor  thee  in  stratagems  of  war, 
That  Talbot's  name  might  be  in  thee  revived, 
When  sapless  age  and  weak  unable  limbs 
Should  bring  thy  father  to  his  di'ooping  chair. 
But,  O  mahgnant  and  ill-boding  stars! 
Now  thou  are  come  unto  a  feast  of  death, 
A  terrible  and  unavoided  danger: 
Therefore,  dear  boy,  mount  on  my  swiftest 

horse ; 
And  1 11  direct  thee  how  thou  shalt  escape      10 
By  sudden  flight:  come,  dally  not,  be  gone. 

John.  Is  my  name  Talbot?  and  am  I  your  son? 
And  shall  I  fly?    O,  if  you  love  my  mother, 
Dishonor  not  her  honorable  name. 
To  make  a  bastard  and  a  slave  of  me! 
The  world  will  say,  he  is  not  Talbot's  blood, 
That  baselv  fled  when  noble  Talbot  stood. 

Tal.  Fly,  to  revenge  my  death,  if  I  be  slain. 

John.  lie  that  flies  so  will  ne'er  return  again. 

16  et  seq.  "For  what  reason  this  scene  is  written  in  rhyme,"  says 
Dr.  Johnson,  "I  cannot  guess.  If  Shakespeare  had  hot  in  other 
plays  mingled  his  rhymes  and  blank  verses  in  the  same  manner,  I 
should  have  suspected  that  this  dialogue  had  been  part  of  some 
other  poem,  which  was  never  finished,  and  tliat  being  loath  to  throw 
his  labour  away,  he  inserted  it  here."  Mr.  Boswell  remarks  that  it 
was  a  practice  common  to  all  Shakespeare's  contemporaries. — H.  N. 
H. 

107 


Act  IV.  Sc.  V.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

TaL  If  we  both  stay,  we  both  are  sure  to  die.        20 
John,  Then  let  me  stay;  and,  father,  do  you  fly; 

Your  loss  is  great,  so  your  regard  should  be; 

My  worth  unknown,  no  loss  is  known  in  me. 

Upon  my  death  the  French  can  little  boast; 

In  yours  they  will,  in  you  all  hopes  are  lost. 

Flight  cannot  stain  the  honor  you  have  won; 

But  mine  it  will,  that  no  exploit  have  done: 

You  fled  for  vantage,  every  one  will  swear ; 

But,  if  I  bow,  they  '11  say  it  was  for  fear. 

There  is  no  hope  that  ever  I  will  stay,  30 

If  the  first  hour  I  shrink  and  run  away. 

Here  on  my  knee  I  beg  mortality, 

Rather  than  hfe  preserved  with  infamy. 
Tal.  Shall  all  thy  mother's  hopes  lie  in  one  tomb? 
John,  Aye,  rather  than  I  '11  shame  my  mother's 

womb. 
Tal.  Upon  my  blessing,  I  command  thee  go. 
John.  To  fight  I  will,  but  not  to  fly  the  foe. 
Tal.  Part  of  thy  father  may  be  saved  in  thee. 
John.  No  part  of  him  but  will  be  shame  in  me. 
Tal,  Thou  never  hadst  renown,  nor  canst  not  lose 
it.  40 

John.  Yes,  your  renowned  name :  shall  flight  abuse 

it? 
Tal.  Thy  father's  charge  shall  clear  thee  from  that 

stain. 
John.  You  cannot  witness  for  me,  being  slain. 

If  death  be  so  apparent,  then  both  fly. 
TaL  And  leave  my  followers  here  to  fight  and  die; 

39.  "shame";  Walker,  "sham'd."—l.  G. 
108 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  vi. 

My  age  was  never  tainted  with  such  shame. 

John,  Aiid  shall  my  youth  be  guilty  of  such  blame? 
No  more  can  I  be  sever'd  from  your  side, 
Than  can  yourself  yourself  in  twain  divide: 
Stay,  go,  do  what  you  will,  the  like  do  I ;  50 

For  live  I  will  not,  if  my  father  die. 

Tal.  Then  here  I  take  my  leave  of  thee,  fair  son. 
Born  to  eclipse  thy  life  this  afternoon. 
Come,  side  by  side  together  live  or  die; 
And  soul  with  soul  from  France  to  heaven  fly. 

[Exeunt, 


Scene  VI 

A  field  of  battle. 

'Alarum:  excursions,  xvherein  Talbot's  Son  is 
hemmed  about,  and  Talbot  rescues  him. 

Tal.  Saint   George   and   victoiy;   fight,    soldiers, 
fight: 
The  regent  hath  with  Talbot  broke  his  word. 
And  left  us  to  the  rage  of  France  his  sword. 
Wliere  is  John  Talbot?     Pause,  and  take  thy 

breath ; 
I  gave  thee  life  and  rescued  thee  from  death. 

John.  O,  twice  my  father,  twice  am  I  thy  son! 
The  life  thou  gavest  me  first  was  lost  and  done. 
Till  with  thy  warlike  sword,  despite  of  fate, 
To  my  determined  time  thou  gavest  new  date. 

3.  "France  his  sword"  tlie  sword  of  the  king  of  France. — C.  H.  H, 
9.  To  determine  is,  literally,  to  set  bounds  or  limits  to  a  thing. 

109 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vi.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Tal.  When  from  the  Dauphin's  crest  thy  sword 

struck  fire,  10 

It  warmed  thy  father's  heart  with  proud  desire 
Of  bold-faced  victory.    Then  leaden  age, 
Quicken'd  with  youthful  spleen  and  warlike 

rage. 
Beat  down  Alen^on,  Orleans,  Burgundy, 
And  from  the  pride  of  Gallia  rescued  thee. 
The  ireful  bastard  Orleans,  that  drew  blood 
From  thee,  my  boy,  and  had  the  maidenhood 
Of  thy  first  fight,  I  soon  encountered. 
And  interchanging  blows  I  quickly  shed 
Some  of  his  bastard  blood ;  and  in  disgrace      20 
Bespoke  him  thus;  'Contaminated  base 
And  misbegotten  blood  I  spill  of  thine, 
Mean  and  right  poor,  for  that  pure  blood  of 

mine. 
Which  thou  didst  force  from  Talbot,  my  brave 

boy:' 
Here,  purposing  the  Bastard  to  destroy. 
Came  in  strong  rescue.     Speak,  thy  father's 

care. 
Art  thou  not  weary,  John?  how  dost  thou  fare? 
Wilt  thou  yet  leave  the  battle,  boy,  and  fly. 
Now  thou  art  seal'd  the  son  of  chivalry? 
Fly,  to  revenge  my  death  when  I  am  dead :      30 
The  help  of  one  stands  me  in  Httle  stead. 

Young  Talbot  therefore  means  that  this  rescue  by  his  father  has 
prolonged  the  period  of  life  which  had  been  fixed  by  the  superiority 
of  his  foes.  It  were  needless  to  say  this,  but  for  the  learned  im- 
pertinence that  has  been  spent  upon  the  expression  of  the  text.— 
H.  N.  H. 


110 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  vi. 

O,  too  iiiucli  folly  is  it,  well  I  wot, 

To  hazard  all  our  lives  in  one  small  boat ! 

If  I  to-day  die  not  with  Frenchmen's  rag*e. 

To-morrow  I  shall  die  with  mickle  age: 

By  me  they  nothing  gain  an  if  I  stay; 

'Tis  but  the  shortening  of  my  life  one  day: 

In  thee  thy  mother  dies,  our  household's  name, 

My  death's  revenge,  thy  youth,  and  England's 

fame : 
All  these  and  more  we  hazard  by  thy  stay ;      40 
All  these  are  saved  if  thou  wilt  fly  away. 
John.  The  sword  of  Orleans  hath  not  made  me 

smart; 
Tliese  words  of  yours  draw  life-blood  from  my 

heart : 
On  that  advantage,  bought  with  such  a  shame, 
To  save  a  paltry  life  and  slay  bright  fame. 
Before  young  Talbot  from  old  Talbot  fly. 
The  coward  horse  that  bears  me  fall  and  die ! 
And  like  me  to  the  peasant  boys  of  France, 
To  be  shame's  scorn  and  subject  of  mischance! 
Surely,  by  all  the  glory  you  have  won,  50 

And  if  I  flv,  I  am  not  Talbot's  son: 
Then  talk  no  more  of  flight,  it  is  no  boot; 
If  son  to  Talbot,  die  at  Talbot's  foot. 
Tal.  Then  follow  thou  thy  desperate  sire  of  Crete, 
Thou  Icarus;  thv  hfe  to  me  is  sweet: 

44.  "On  that  advantage,"  so  the  Ff.;  Theobald  conjectured  "On 
that  bad  vantage,"  but  subsequently  read,  "Out  on  that  vantage"; 
Hanmer,  "Oh!  what  advantage";  Vaughan,  "Oh  hated  vantage!"  &c. 
—I.  G. 

55.  "Icarus,"  son  of  Daedalus  of  Crete,  who,  emulating  his  "des- 

111 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vi.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

If  thou  wilt  fight,  fight  by  thy  father's  side; 
And,  commendable  proved,  let 's  die  in  pride. 

\_ELveu7it. 

perate  sire"  in  the  attempt  to  fly  with  wings,  fell  into  the  sea.— 
C.  H.  H. 

57.  In  these  scenes  the  Poet  anticipates  an  event  that  did  not  take 
place  till  1453,  more  than  eight  years  after  the  marriage  of  the 
king,  with  which  the  First  Part  concludes.  The  life  of  this  drama, 
so  far  as  it  hath  any,  apparently  consists  in  referring  the  loss  of 
the  French  provinces  to  the  rivalries  and  enmities  among  the  Eng- 
lish nobility;  and  that  anticipation  was  witn  a  view,  no  doubt,  to 
set  forth  in  a  more  impressive  manner  the  train  of  disasters  grow- 
ing out  of  that  cause.  Talbot  was  at  this  time  in  his  eightieth 
year.  The  event  of  his  death  is  thus  related  by  Holinshed:  "The 
earle  hasted  forward  towards  his  enemies,  doubting  most  least  they 
would  have  beene  quite  fled  and  gone  before  his  comming.  But 
they,  fearing  the  displeasure  of  the  French  king,  abode  his  com- 
mitig,  and  so  received  him.  Though  he  first  with  manfuU  courage 
and  sore  figliting  wan  the  entrie  of  their  campe,  yet  at  length  they 
compassed  him  about,  and,  shooting  him  through  the  thigh  with  a 
handgun,  slue  his  horsse,  and  finally  killed  him  lieng  on  the  ground, 
whome  they  durst  never  looke  in  the  face,  while  he  stood  on  his 
feet.  It  was  said,  that  after  he  perceived  there  was  no  remeiie,  but 
present  loss  of  the  battell,  he  counselled  his  sonne  to  save  himselfe 
by  flight,  sith  the  same  could  not  redound  to  anie  great  reproch  in 
him,  this  being  the  first  journie  in  which  he  had  beene  present. 
Manie  words  he  used  to  persuade  him  to  have  saved  his  life:  but 
nature  so  wrought  in  the  son,  that  neither  desire  of  life  nor  feare 
of  death  could  either  cause  him  to  shrinke,  or  conveie  himselfe  out  of 
the  danger;  and  so  there  manfullie  ended  his  life  with  his  said 
father."  The  dialogue  that  was  said  to  have  passed  between  old 
Talbot  and  his  son  is  given  more  fully  by  Hall;  and  the  Poet's  rep- 
resentation in  this  scene  was  doubtless  built  upon  the  narrative  of  the 
elder  chronicler." — H.  N.  H. 


112 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  vii. 


Scene  VII 

Another  i)art  of  the  field. 

Alarum:  ecccursions.     Enter  old  Talbot  led  by  a 

Servant. 

Tal.  Where  is  my  other  Hfe?  mine  own  is  gone; 
O,  where's  young  Talbot?  where  is  vahant  John? 
Triumphant  death,  smear'd  with  captivity, 
Young  Talbot's  valor  makes  me  smile  at  thee: 
When  he  perceived  me  shrink  and  on  my  knee, 
His  bloody  sword  he  brandish'd  over  me. 
And,  like  a  hungry  lion,  did  commence 
Rough  deeds  of  rage  and  stern  impatience; 
But  when  my  angry  guardant  stood  alone, 
Tendering  my  ruin  and  assail'd  of  none,  10 

Dizzy-eyed  fury  and  great  rage  of  heart 

3,  4. 

^''Triumphant   Death,  smear'd  with   captivity, 
Young  Talbot's  valor  viakes  me  smile  at  thee"; 

the  phrase  "smear'd  with  captivity,"  has  not  been  clearly  explained; 
at  first  sight  it  is  difficult  to  determine  its  exact  force,  and 
whether  tlie  words  refer  to  Death  or  to  the  speaker  (Talbot).  Leo 
explains  that  "Death  is  supposed  to  go  triumphantly  over  the 
battle  field,  smeared  with  the  terrible  aspect  of  captivity";  but  pos- 
sibly the  reference  is  to  the  Christian  belief  tliat  Christ  took  Death 
captive.  Death  the  Victor  is,  from  this  point  of  view.  Death  the 
Victim;  it  is,  as  it  were,  unconsciously  smeared  (t,  e.  smirched)  with 
the  wretched   (not  the  terrible)  aspect  of  captivity. — I.  G. 

10.  That  is,  so  tender  of  me  in  my  ruin,  or  watching  me  so  teni- 
derly.  Thus  in  the  Second  Part,  Act  iii.  sc.  1 :  "I  tender  so  the 
safety  of  my  liege."  And  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Philaster, 
Act  iii.  sc.  1 :  "Something  is  done  that  will  distract  me,  that  will 
make  mc  mad,  if  I  behold  thee:  If  thou  tender's!  me,  let  me  not 
see  thee." — Of  course  ruin  is  here  used  in  tiie  primitive  sense  of  fall. 
— H.  N.  H. 

113 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF. 

Suddenly  made  him  from  my  side  to  start 
Into  the  clustering  battle  of  the  French ; 
And  in  that  sea  of  blood  my  boy  did  drench 
His  over-mounting  spirit,  and  there  died, 
JNIy  Icarus,  my  blossom,  in  his  pride. 
Serv.  O  my  dear  lord,  lo,  where  your  son  is  borne ! 

Enter  Soldiers,  with  the  body  of  young  Talbot. 

Tal,  Thou  antic  death,  which  laugh'st  us  here  to 

scorn, 
Anon,  from  thy  insulting  tyranny, 
Coupled  in  bonds  of  perpetuity,  20 

Two  Talbots,  winged  through  the  lither  sky. 
In  thy  despite  shall  'scape  mortality. 
O   thou,   whose   wounds   become   hard-favor'd 

death. 
Speak  to  thy  father  ere  thou  yield  thy  breath ! 
Brave  death  by  speaking,  whether  he  will  or  no; 
Imagine  him  a  Frenchman  and  thy  foe. 
Poor  boy!  he  smiles,  methinks,  as  who  should 

say, 
Had  death  been  French,  then  death  had  died 

to-day. 
Come,  come  and  lay  him  in  his  father's  arms : 
My  spirit  can  no  longer  bear  these  harms.        30 
Soldiers,  adieu !    I  have  what  I  would  have, 

18.  "antic,"  jester,  clown;  from  the  grinning  teeth  of  the  skeleton 
by  which  Death  was  figured. — C.  K.  H. 

21.  "Lither"  is  limber,  pliant,  yielding;  as  in  Paradise  Lost,  Book 
iv.:  "The  unwieldy  elephant,  to  make  them  mirth,  used  all  his 
might,  and  wreath'd  his  lithe  proboscis." — Of  course  sky  is  here 
put  for  air,  the  meaning  thus  being  much  the  same  as  in  Milton's, 
— "He  with  broad  sails  winnow'd  the  buxom  air";  where  buxom  is 
used  in  its  original  sense  of  pliant,  yielding. — H.  N.  H. 

114 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  vii. 

Now  my  old  arms  are  young  Jolin  Talbot's 
grave.  [Dies. 

Enter  Charles,  Alenfon,  Burgundy,  Bastard, 
La  Pucelle,  and  forces. 

Char.  Had  York  and  Somerset  brought  rescue  in, 
We  should  have  found  a  bloody  day  of  this. 

Bast.  How  the  young  whelp  of  Talbot's,  raging- 
wood, 
Did  flesh  his  puny  sword  in  Frenchmen's  blood! 

Puc.  Once  I  encounter'd  him,  and  thus  I  said : 
'Thou  maiden  youth,  be  vanquish'd  by  a  maid:* 
But,  with  a  proud  majestical  high  scorn, 
He  answer'd  thus :  'Young  Talbot  was  not  born 
To  be  the  pillage  of  a  giglot  wench :'  41 

So,  rushing  in  the  bowels  of  the  French, 
He  left  me  proudly,  as  unworthy  fight. 

Bur.  Doubtless  he  would  have  made  a  noble  knight : 
See,  where  he  Kes  inhearsed  in  the  arms 

32,  The  battle  in  which  the  Talbots  fell  is  known  in  history  as  the 
battle  of  Chatillon,  the  name  of  a  fortress  not  far  from  Bordeaux, 
and  took  place  in  July,  1453.  The  occasion  was  this:  The  pre- 
ceding year,  while  England  was  torn  with  civil  war,  all  France 
having  been  lost,  the  jjcople  of  Guienne,  impatient  of  French 
tyranny,  sent  over  a  deputation,  otFering  to  renew  their  allegiance, 
and  soliciting  the  aid  of  an  army.  The  invitation  was  gladly  ac- 
cepted, and  the  command  given  to  the  veteran  earl  of  Shrewsbury.. 
The  old  hero  used  such  energy  and  despatch,  that  he  took  posses- 
sion of  Bordeaux  and  the  surrounding  country  before  the  French 
could  interpose  any  Iiindrance.  The  next  spring,  while  he  was 
extending  his  conquests,  a  French  army  invested  Chatillon,  which 
he  had  before  taken  and  fortified.  Talbot,  hastening  to  its  relief, 
surprised  and  defeated  a  large  body  of  the  enemy;  whereupon 
the  French  retired  into  an  intrenched  camp  lined  with  three  hun- 
dred pieces  of  cannon.  He  tiien  ordered  an  assault,  and  the  enemy 
began  to  waver,  when  the  arrival  of  a  new  body  of  men  turned  the 
day  against  him. — H.  N.  H. 

115 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Of  the  most  bloody  niirser  of  his  harms! 
Bast.  Hew  them  to  pieces,  hack  their  bones  asun- 
der, 
Whose  hfe  was  England's  glory,  Gallia's  won- 
der. 
Char,  O,  no,  forbear!  for  that  which  we  have  fled 
During  the  life,  let  us  not  wrong  it  dead.      50 

Elite?'  Sir  William  Lucy,  attended;  Herald  of  the 

French  preceding, 

m 

Lucy.  Herald,  conduct  me  to  the  Dauphin's  tent. 
To  know  who  hath  obtain' d  the  glory  of  the 
day. 
Char,  On  what  submissive  message  art  thou  sent? 
Lucy,  Submission,  Dauphin!  'tis  a  mere  French 
word; 
We  English  warriors  wot  not  what  it  means. 
I  come  to  know  what  prisoners  thou  hast  ta'en, 
And  to  survey  the  bodies  of  the  dead. 
Char.  For  prisoners  ask'st  thou?  hell  our  prison  is.. 

But  tell  me  whom  thou  seek'st^ 
Lucy.  But  where  's  the  great  Alcides  of  the  field. 
Valiant  Lord  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,    61 
Created,  for  his  rare  success  in  arms, 
Great    Earl    of    Washford,    Waterford    and 

Valence ; 
Lord  Talbot  of  Goodrig  and  LTrchinfield, 
Lord  Strange  of  Blackmere,  Lord  Verdun  of 
Alton, 

60.  "But  Where's";  so  Ff.;  Rowe,  "Where  is";  Lettsom  proposed, 
"First,  Where's."— \.  G. 

63.  "Washford,"  Wexford.— C.  H.  H. 

116 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc  vii, 

Lord  Cromwell  of  Wingfield,  Lord  Furnival 

of  Sheffield, 
The  thrice-victorious  Lord  of  Falconbridge; 
Knight  of  the  noble  order  of  Saint  George, 
Worthy  Saint  INIichael  and  the  Golden  Fleece; 
Great  marshal  to  Henry  the  Sixth  "70 

Of  all  his  wars  within  the  realm  of  France? 

Puc.  Here  is  a  silly  stately  style  indeed! 

The  Turk,  that  two  and  fifty  kingdoms  hath. 
Writes  not  so  tedious  a  style  as  this. 
Him  that  thou  magnifiest  with  all  these  titles 
Stinking  and  fly-blown  lies  here  at  our  feet. 

Lucy.  Is    Talbot    slain,    the    Frenchman's    only 
scourge. 
Your  kingdom's  terror  and  black  Nemesis? 
O,  were  mine  eye-balls  into  bullets  turn'd, 
That  I  in  rage  might  shoot  them  at  your  faces! 
O,  that  I  could  but  call  these  dead  to  life!       ^1 
It  were  enough  to  fright  the  realm  of  France: 
Were  but  his  picture  left  amongst  you  here, 
It  would  amaze  the  proudest  of  you  all. 
Give  me  their  bodies,  that  I  may  bear  them 

hence 
And  ffive  them  burial  as  beseems  their  worth. 

Puc.  I  think  this  upstart  is  old  Talbot's  ghost, 
He   speaks   with   such   a   proud   commanding 

spirit. 
For  God's  sake,  let  him  have  'em;  to  keep  them 
here, 

70.  "Henry";  so   F.   1;   Ff.   2,  3,  4,  "our  King  Henry."     The  line 
is  probably  to  be  read: — 

"Great  mareshal  to  Jlenery   the  Sixth." — I.   G. 

117 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

They  would  but  stink,  and  putrify  the  air.     90 
Char.  Go,  take  their  bodies  hence. 
Lucy.  1 11  bear  them  hence;  but  from  their  ashes 
shall  be  rear'd 
A  phoenix  that  shall  make  all  France  afeard. 
Char.  So  we  be  rid  of  them,  do  with  'em  what  thou 
wilt. 
And  now  to  Paris,  in  this  conquering  vein: 
'All  will  be  ours,  now  bloody  Talbot 's  slain. 

\_Ea^eunt, 


118 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  FIFTH 

Scene  I 

London,     The  palace. 
Sennet.     Enter  King,  Gloucester,  and  Exeter. 

King.  Have  you  perused  the  letters  from  the  pope, 
The  emperor,  and  the  Earl  of  Armagnac? 

Glou.  I  have,  my  lord:  and  their  intent  is  this: 
They  humbly  sue  unto  your  excellence 
To  have  a  godly  peace  concluded  of 
Between  the  realms  of  England  and  of  France. 

King.  How  doth  your  grace  affect  their  motion? 

Glou.  Well,  my  good  lord;  and  as  the  only  means 
To  stop  effusion  of  our  Chi'istian  blood 
And  stablish  quietness  on  every  side.  10 

King.  Aye,  marry,  uncle ;  for  I  always  thought 
It  was  both  impious  and  unnatural 
That  such  immanity  and  bloody  strife 
Should  reign  among  professors  of  one  faith. 

Glou.  Beside,  my  lord,  the  sooner  to  effect 
And  surer  bind  this  knot  of  amity. 
The  Earl  of  Armagnac,  near  knit  to  Charles, 

17.  "Knit,"  the  reading  of  the  Ff.;  Pope  first  suggested  "kin," 
which  was  also  adopted  by  Theobald,  Hanmer,  Warburton,  and 
Johnson;  Capell  restored  "knit,"  which  was  adopted  by  Steevens  and 
Malone.  The  Cambridge  editions  see  in  "knit,"  "a  conceit  suggested 
by  the  'Knot  of  amity'  in  the  preceding  line." — I.  G. 

119 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

A  man  of  great  authority  in  France, 
Proffers  his  only  daughter  to  your  grace 
In    marriage,    with   a   large    and    sumptuous 
dowry.  ^^ 

Kmg.  Marriage,  uncle!  alas,  my  years  are  young! 
And  fitter  is  my  study  and  my  books 
Than  wanton  dalliance  with  a  paramour. 
Yet  call  the  ambassadors ;  and,  as  you  please. 
So  let  them  have  their  answers  every  one : 
I  shall  be  well  content  with  any  choice 
Tends  to  God's  glory  and  my  country's  weal. 

Enter  Winchester  in  Cardinal's  liabit,  a  Legate 
and  two  Ambassadors. 

Exe.  What!  is  my  Lord  of  Winchester  install'd, 
And  call'd  unto  a  cardinal's  degree? 
Then  I  perceive  that  will  be  verified  30 

21.  "Marriage,  uncle!  alas,  my  years  are  young!"  Pope  reads, 
"Marriage,  alas!  my  years  are  yet  too  young";  Capell,  "Marriage, 
good  uncle  I  alas,  my  years  are  young";  Walker,  "Marriage,  uncle, 
'las  my  years  are  young." — I.  G. 

"My  years  are  young";  "His  majesty  was,  however,  twenty-four 
years  old." — M alone. 

29.  Beaufort's  preferment  to  "a  cardinal's  degree"  having  hap- 
pened about  fifteen  years  back,  it  may  seem  strange  that  Exeter 
should  now  for  the  first  time  wonder  at  it  as  something  new.  This, 
however,  is  quite  in  keeping  with  other  things  in  the  same  scene, 
such  as  the  alleged  youth  of  the  king,  who  was  at  this  time  twenty- 
three  years  old;  and  was,  no  doubt,  done  knowingly  and  upon 
principle,  the  later  and  earlier  events  being  thus  drawn  nearer  to- 
gether for  the  convenience  of  the  drama,  and  to  preserve  a  more 
sensible  unity  in  the  representation.  The  point  is  well  stated  by 
Coleridge:  "The  history  of  our  ancient  kings,- — the  events  of  their 
reigns,  I  mean, — are  like  stars  in  the  sky; — whatever  the  real  inter- 
spaces may  be,  and  however  great,  they  seem  close  to  each  other. 
The  stars— the  events — strike  us  and  remain  in  our  eye,  little  modi- 
fied by  the  difference  of  dates."— H.  N.  H. 

120 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  u 

Henry  the  Fifth  did  sometime  prophesy, 

'If  once  he  come  to  be  a  cardinal, 

He  '11  make  his  caj3  co-equal  with  the  crown.* 

King.  My  lords  ambassadors,  your  several  suits 
Have  been  consider 'd  and  debated  on. 
Your  purpose  is  but  good  and  reasonable; 
And  therefore  are  we  certainly  resolved 
To  draw  conditions  of  a  friendly  peace; 
Which  by  my  Lord  of  Winchester  we  mean 
Shall  be  transported  presently  to  France.       40 

Glou.  And  for  the  proffer  of  my  lord  your  mas- 
ter, 
I  have  inform'd  his  highness  so  at  large, 
As  liking  of  the  lady's  virtuous  gifts. 
Her  beautj^  and  the  value  of  her  dower. 
He  doth  intend  she  shall  be  England's  queen. 

King.  In  argument  and  proof  of  which  contract, 
Bear  her  this  jewel,  pledge  of  my  affection. 
And  so,  my  lord  protector,  see  them  guarded 
And  safely  brought  to  Dover;  where  inshipp'd 
Commit  them  to  the  fortune  of  the  sea.  50 

[EiVeunt  all  but  Winchester  and  Legate. 

Win.  Stay  my  lord  legate:  you  shall  first  receive 
The  sum  of  money  which  I  promised 
Should  be  deliver'd  to  his  holiness 
For  clothing  me  in  these  grave  ornaments. 

L,eg.  I  will  attend  upon  your  lordship's  leisure. 

Win.  \^Aside^  Now  Winchester  will  not  submit,  I 
trow, 

46.  "argument,"  evidence.— C.  H.  H. 

49.  "where    inshipp'd";    the    reading    of    F.   4;    Ff.    1,    2j   wherein 
ship'd";  F.  3,  "uherein  shipp'd."—].  G. 

Shk-1-17  121 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Or  be  inferior  to  the  proudest  peer. 
Humphrey  of  Gloucester,  thou  shalt  well  per- 
ceive 
That,  neither  in  birth  or  for  authority, 
The  bishop  will  be  overborne  by  thee:  60 

I  '11  either  make  thee  stoop  and  bend  thy  knee. 
Or  sack  this  country  with  a  mutiny.      [Exeunt. 


Scene  II 

France.     Plains  in  Anjou. 

Enter  Charles,  Burgundy,  Alen^on,  Bastard, 
Reignier,  La  Pucelle,  and  forces. 

Char.  These  news,  my  lords,  may  cheer  our  droop- 
ing spirits: 
'Tis  said  the  stout  Parisians  do  revolt 

62.  The  negotiation,  of  whicli  we  here  have  a  showing,  took  place 
in  1442,  The  matter  is  thus  related  by  Holinshed:  "In  this  yeare 
died  in  Guien  the  countesse  of  Comings,  to  whome  the  French 
king  and  also  the  earle  of  Arminacke  pretended  to  be  heire,  inso- 
much that  the  earle  entred  into  all  the  lands  of  the  said  ladie. 
And  bicause  he  knew  the  French  king  would  not  take  the  matter 
well,  to  have  a  Rouland  for  an  Oliver  he  sent  ambassadours  to 
the  king  of  England,  offering  him  his  daughter  in  mariage,  with 
promise  to  deliver  all  such  castels  and  townes  as  he  or  his  ances- 
tors deteined  from  him  within  anie  part  of  the  duchie  of  Aquitaine. 
This  offer  seemed  so  profitable  and  honorable,  that  the  ambassa- 
dours were  well  heard,  honorably  received,  and  with  rewards  sent 
home.  After  whome  were  sent  sir  Edward  Hull,  sir  Robert  Ros, 
and  John  Gralton,  the  which  both  concluded  the  mariage,  and  by 
proxie  afRed  the  yoong  ladie.  The  French  king,  not  a  little  of- 
fended herewith,  sent  his  eldest  sonne,  with  a  puissant  armie,  which 
tooke  the  earle  and  his  yoongest  sonne,  with  both  his  daughters; 
and  so  by  reason  hereof  the  concluded  mariage  was  deferred,  and 
that  so  long  that  it  never  tooke  effect." — H.  N.  H. 

122 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

And  turn  again  unto  tlie  warlike  French. 
Alen.  Then    march    to    Paris,    royal    Charles    of 
France, 

And  keep  not  back  your  powers  in  dalliance. 
Puc.  Peace  be  amongst  them,  if  they  turn  to  us; 

Else,  ruin  combat  with  their  palaces! 

Enter  Scout. 

Scout.  Success  unto  our  valiant  general. 

And  happiness  to  his  accomplices! 
Char.  What  tidings  send  our  scouts?   I  j^rithee, 
speak.  10 

Scout.  The  English  army,  that  divided  was 
Into  two  parties,  is  now  conjoin'd  in  one, 
And  means  to  give  you  battle  presently. 
Char.  Somewhat  too  sudden,  sirs,  the  warning  is; 

But  we  will  presently  provide  for  them. 
Bur.    I  trust  the  gho§t  of  Talbot  is  not  there: 

Now  he  is  gone,  my  lord,  you  need  not  fear. 
Pmc.  Of  all  base  passions,  fear  is  most  accursed. 
Command  the   conquest,    Charles,   it   shall   be 
thine, 
Let  Henry  fret  and  all  the  world  repine.  '-^ 

Char.  Then   on,   my  lords;   and    France  be   for- 
tunate! lEiTCunt. 


123 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Scene  III 

Before  Angiers. 

Alarum.     Excursions.     Enter  La  Pucelle. 

Puc.  The  regent  conquers,  and  the  Frenchmen  fly. 
New  help,  ye  charming  spells  and  periapts; 
And  ye  choice  spirits  that  admonish  me. 
And  give  me  signs  of  future  accidents. 

[Thunder. 
You  speedy  helpers,  that  are  substitutes 
Under  the  lordly  monarch  of  the  north. 
Appear  and  aid  me  in  this  enterprise. 

Enter  Fiends. 

This  speedy  and  quick  appearance  argues  proof 
Of  your  accustom'd  diligence  to  me. 
Now,  ye  familiar  spirits,  that  are  cull'd  10 

Out  of  the  powerful  regions  under  earth. 
Help  me  this  once,  that  France  may  get  the 
field.  [They  walk,  and  speak  not. 

O,  hold  me  not  with  silence  over-long! 
Where  I  was  wont  to  feed  you  with  my  blood, 
I  '11  lop  a  member  off  and  give  it  you 

5.  "Periapts"  were  certain  written  charms  worn  about  the  person 
as  preservatives  from  disease  and  danger.  Of  these  the  first  chap- 
ter of  St.  John's  Gospel  was  deemed  the  most  efficacious. — H.  N.  H. 

6.  The  "monarch  of  the  north"  was  Zimimar,  one  of  the  four  prin- 
cipal devils  invoked  by  witches.  The  north  was  supposed  to  be  the 
particular  habitation  of  bad  spirits.  Milton  assembles  the  rebel 
angels  in  the  north. — H.  N.  H. 

8.  "speedy  and  quick";  Pope,  "speedy  quick";  Walker,  "speed  and 
quick."    "argues";  Vaughan,  "urges." — I.  G. 

10.  "cull'd";  Collier  MS.,  "call'd."—!.  G. 

11.  "regions";  Ff.,  "Regions";  Warburton,  "legiont."—!.  G. 

124 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

In  earnest  of  a  further  benefit, 

So  you  do  condescend  to  help  me  now. 

[They  hang  tJieir  heads. 
No  hope  to  have  redress?     ^ly  body  shall 
Pay  recompense,  if  you  will  grant  my  suit. 

[They  shake  their  heads. 
Cannot  my  body  nor  blood-sacrifice  20 

Entreat  you  to  your  wonted  furtherance? 
Then  take  my  soul,  my  body,  soul  and  all, 
Before  that  England  give  the  French  the  foil. 

[They  depart. 
See,  they  forsake  me !     Now  the  time  is  come 
That  France  must  vail  her  lofty-plumed  crest, 
And  let  her  head  fall  into  England's  lap. 
My  ancient  incantations  are  too  weak. 
And  hell  too  strong  for  me  to  buckle  with: 
Now,  France,  thy  glory  droopeth  to  the  dust. 

[Exit. 

Excursions.  Re-enter  La  Pucelle  fighting  hand 
to  hand  with  York:  La  Pucelle  is  taken.  The 
French  fly. 

York.  Damsel  of  France,  I  think  I  have  you 

fast :  30 

Unchain  your  spirits  now  Avith  spelling  charms. 
And  ivy  if  they  can  gain  your  liberty. 
A  goodly  prize,  fit  for  the  devil's  grace ! 
See,  how  the  ugly  witch  doth  bend  her  brows. 
As  if  with  Circe  she  would  change  my  shape! 

Puc.  Changed  to  a  worser  shape  thou  canst  not  be. 

York.  O,  Charles  the  Dauphin  is  a  proper  man; 
No  shape  but  his  can  please  your  dainty  eye. 

125 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Puc.  A  plaguing  mischief  light  on  Charles  and 
thee ! 
And  may  ye  both  be  suddenly  surprised  40 

By  bloody  hands,  in  sleeping  on  your  beds! 
York.  Fell  banning  hag,  enchantress,  hold  thy 

tongue ! 
Pnc.  I  prithee,  give  me  leave  to  curse  awhile. 
York.  Curse,  miscreant,  when  thou  comest  to  the 
stake.  [Exeunt. 

Alarum.     Enter  Suffolk,  with  Margaret  in 

his  hand. 

Suf.  Be  what  thou  wilt,  thou  art  mj^  prisoner. 

[Gazes  on  her. 

0  fairest  beautj^  do  not  fear  nor  fly ! 

For  I  will  touch  thee  but  with  reverent  hands; 

1  kiss  these  fingers  for  eternal  peace. 
And  lay  them  gently  on  thy  tender  side. 
Who  art  thou?  say,  that  I  may  honor  thee.     50 

Mar.  Margaret  my  name,  and  daughter  to  a  king, 

44.  The  capture  of  Joan  was  in  May,  1430,  twelve  years  before 
the  event  of  the  first  scene  of  this  Act,  and  more  than  five  years 
before  the  death  of  Bedford,  and  while  Burgundy  was  yet  in  alli- 
ance with  the  English.  The  latter  undertaking  to  reduce  the  city 
of  Compeigne,  Joan  went  with  an  army  to  raise  the  siege.  On 
the  march  she  met  and  routed  a  force  of  Burgundians,  and,  hav- 
ing taken  Franquet,  their  leader,  had  him  beheaded  on  the  spot. 
Reinforcements  pouring  in  from  all  sides,  she  was  soon  forced  to 
retreat,  herself  taking  the  rear-guard,  and  repeatedly  turning  upon 
the  pursuers,  and  keeping  them  off;  till,  at  last,  her  men  being 
broken,  she  was  pulled  from  her  horse  by  an  archer,  and,  lying  on 
the  ground,  surrendered  herself.  The  heroine  was  then  conducted 
to  John  of  Luxemburg,  who  some  months  after  sold  her  into  the 
hands  of  the  regent. — H.  N.  H. 

48,  49.  "/  kis8  .  .  .  side";  Capell  and  other  editors  transpose 
these  lines: — "And  lay  .  .  .  side.  I  kiss  .  .  .  [kissing  her 
hand]     .    .    .    peace." — I.  G. 

12^ 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

The  King  of  Naj^les,  whosoe'er  thou  art. 
Suf.  An  earl  I  am,  and  Suffolk  am  I  call'd. 
Be  not  offended,  nature's  miraele, 
Thou  art  allotted  to  be  ta'en  by  me: 
So  doth  the  swan  her  downy  cygnets  save, 
Keeping  them  prisoner  underneath  her  wings. 
Yet,  if  this  servile  usage  once  offend, 
Go  and  be  free  again  as  Suffolk's  friend. 

\_She  is  going. 
O,  stay!    I  have  no  power  to  let  her  pass;        ^0 
IVIy  hand  would  free  her,  but  my  heart  says  no. 
As  plays  the  sun  upon  the  glassy  streams, 
Twinkling  another  counterfeited  beam, 
So  seems  this  gorgeous  beauty  to  mine  ej^es. 
Fain  would  I  woo  her,  yet  I  dare  not  speak: 
I  '11  call  for  pen  and  ink,  and  write  my  mind. 
Fie,  de  la  Pole!  disable  not  thyself; 
Hast  not  a  tongue?  is  she  not  here? 
Wilt  thou  be  daunted  at  a  woman's  sight? 
Aye,  beauty's  princely  majesty  is  such,  70 

Confounds  the  tongue  and  makes  the  senses 
rough. 

57.  "Keeping  them  'prisoner  underneath  her  wings";  Ff.  1,  2, 
"prisoner";  Ff.  3,  4,  "prisoners";  Vaughan,  "prisoned";  "her  wings," 
Ff.  3,  4;  F.  1,  "his  wings";  F.  2,  "Mr  wings";  Vaughan,  "its  wings." 
—I.  G. 

63.  "Twinkling  another  counterfeited  beam";  Vaughan,  "Kindling 
another  counterfeited  beam";  or  "Twinkling  in  other  counterfeited 
beams." — I.  G. 

68.  "Hast  not  a  tongue?  is  she  not  here?"  Anon.  conj.  "tongue 
to  speak?"  "here"?;  F.  1,  "heere?";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "heere  thy  prisoner-"; 
Keightley,  "here  alone";  Lettsom,  "here  in  place,"  or  "here  beside 
th4e";  Vaughan,  "present  here." — I.  G. 

71.  "makes  the  senses  rough";  so  the  Ff. ;  Hanmer,  "makes  th« 
$enses  crouch";  Capell,  "make  .  .  .  crouch";  Jackson,  "makes  the 
tenses  touch" ;  Collier  MS.,  "mocks  the  sense  of  touch." — I.  G. 

13  127 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Mar.  Say,  Earl  of  Suffolk, — if  thy  name  be  so — 

What  ransom  must  I  pay  before  I  pass? 

For  I  perceive  I  am  thy  prisoner. 
Suf.  How  canst  thou  tell  she  will  deny  thy  suit. 

Before  thou  make  a  trial  of  her  love? 
3Ia?\  Wh}'  speak'st  thou  not?  what  ransom  must 

I   pay? 
Suf.  She's  beautiful  and  therefore  to  be  woo'd; 

She  is  a  woman,  therefore  to  be  won.- 
Ma?'.  Wilt  thou  accept  a  ransom?  yea,  or  no.        80 
Suf.  Fond  man,  remember  that  thou  hast  a  wife; 

Then  how  can  Margaret  be  thy  paramour? 
Mar.  I  were  best  to  leave  him,  for  he  will  not  hear. 
Suf.  There  all  is  marr'd;  there  lies  a  cooling  card. 
Mar.  He  talks  at  random ;  sure,  the  man  is  mad. 
Suf.  And  yet  a  dispensation  may  be  had. 
Mar.  And  yet  I  would  that  you  would  answer  me. 
Suf.  I  '11  win  this  Lady  Margaret.     For  whom? 

Why,  for  my  king;  tush,  that 's  a  wooden  thing! 
Mar.  He  talks  of  wood :  it  is  some  carpenter.  90 
Suf.  Yet  so  my  fancy  may  be  satisfied, 

And  peace  established  between  these  realms. 

But  there  remains  a  scruple  in  that  too; 

For  though  her  father  be  the  King  of  Naples, 

Duke  of  Anjou  and  Maine,  yet  is  he  poor, 

And  our  nobility  will  scorn  the  match. 
Mar.  Hear  ye,  captain,  are  you  not  at  leisure? 
Suf.  It  shall  be  so,  disdain  they  ne'er  so  much: 

78,  79.  "She's  beautiful,  and  therefore  to  be  woo'd,"  &c.  These 
lines  were  evidently  proverbial;  cp.  Richard  III,  I.  ii.  228,  230,  and 
Titus  Andronicus,  II.  i.  82,  83.— I.  G. 

84..  "cooUnff  card,"  something  which  dashes  hope,  "throws  cold  wa- 
ter" on  eager  expectation. — C.  H.  H. 

128 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

Henry  is  youthful  and  will  quickly  yield. 

Madam,  I  have  a  secret  to  reveal.  100 

Mar.  What  though  I  he  enthrall'd?  he  seems  a 
knight, 

And  will  not  any  way  dishonor  me. 
Suf.  Lady,  vouchsafe  to  listen  what  I  say. 
Mar.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  rescued  by  the  French ; 

And  then  I  need  not  crave  his  courtesy. 
Suf.  Sweet  madam,  give  me  hearing  in  a  cause — ■ 
Mar.  Tush,  women  have  been  captivate  ere  now. 
Suf.  Lady,  wherefore  talk  you  so? 
Mar.  I  cry  you  mercy,  'tis  but  Quid  for  Quo. 
Suf.  Say,  gentle  princess,  would  you  not  suppose 

Your  bondage  happy,  to  be  made  a  queen?   HO 
Mar.  To  be  a  queen  in  bondage  is  more  vile 

That  is  a  slave  in  base  servility; 

For  princes  should  be  free. 
Suf.  And  so  shall  you, 

If  happy  England's  royal  king  be  free. 
Mar.  Why,  what  concerns  his  freedom  unto  me? 
Suf.  I  '11  undertake  to  make  thee  Henry's  queen. 

To  put  a  golden  scepter  in  thy  hand 

And  set  a  precious  crown  upon  thy  head, 

If  thou  wilt  condescend  to  be  my — • 
Mar.  What's  120 

Suf.  His  love. 

Mar.  I  am  unworthy  to  be  Henry's  wife. 
Suf.  No,  gentle  madam;  I  unworthy  am 

To  woo  so  fair  a  dame  to  be  his  wife, 

108.  "Lady";  Capell,  "Nay,  hear  me,  lady";  Collier  MS.,  "Ladi, 
pray  tell  me";  Lettsom,  "Lady,  sweet  lady";  Dycc,  "/  prithee,  lady.' 
—I.  G. 

129 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

And  have  no  portion  in  the  choice  myself. 

How  say  you,  madam,  are  ye  so  content? 
Mar.  An  if  my  father  please,  I  am  content. 
Suf.  Then  call  our  captain  and  our  colors  forth. 

And,  madam,  at  your  father's  castle  walls 

We  '11  crave  a  parley,  to  confer  with  him.      130 

A  parley  sounded.     Enter  Reignier  on  the  walls. 

See,  Reignier,  see,  thy  daughter  prisoner! 
Reig.  To  whom? 
Suf.  To  me. 

Reig.  Suffolk,  what  remedy? 

I  am  a  soldier,  and  unapt  to  weep, 

Or  to  exclaim  on  fortune's  fickleness. 
Suf.  Yes,  there  is  remedy  enough,  my  lord: 

Consent,  and  for  thy  honor  give  consent, 

Thy  daughter  shall  be  wedded  to  my  king; 

Whom  I  with  pain  have  woo'd  and  won  thereto; 

And  this  her  easy-held  imprisonment 

Hath  gain'd  thy  daughter  princely  liberty.     140 
Reig.  Speaks  Suffolk  as  he  thinks? 
Suf.  Fair  Margaret  knows 

That  Suffolk  doth  not  flatter,  face,  or  feign. 
Reig.  Upon  thy  princely  warrant,  I  descend 

To  give  thee  answer  of  thy  just  demand. 

[Ecvit  from  the  walls, 
Suf.  And  here  I  will  expect  thy  coming. 

142.  "face,"  play  the  hypocrite.— C.  H.  H. 

145.  "And  here  I  will  expect  thy  cominr/";  Dyce,  "here,  my  lord"; 
F.  4,  "coming";  Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "comming";  Capell,  "coming,  Reigniei-"; 
Collier  MS.,  "coming  down";  Anon.  conj.  "coining,  king";  Anon. 
conj.  "communing." — I.  G. 


ISO 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  Hi. 

Trumpets  sound.     Enter  Reignier,  below. 

Reig.  Welcome,  brave  earl,  into  our  territories: 

Command  in  Anjou  what  your  honor  pleases. 
Suf.  Thanks,  Reignier,  happy  for  so  sweet  a  child, 

Fit  to  be  made  companion  with  a  king:         150 

What  answer  makes  your  grace  unto  my  suit? 
Reig.  Since  thou  dost  deign  to  woo  her  little  worth 

To  be  the  princely  bride  of  such  a  lord; 

Upon  condition  I  may  quietly 

Enjoy  mine  own,  the  country  ISIaine  and  An- 
jou, 

Free  from  oppression  or  the  stroke  of  war, 

My  daughter  shall  be  Henry's,  if  he  please. 

Suf.  That  is  her  ransom ;  I  deliver  her ; 

And  those  two  counties  I  will  undertake 
Your  grace  shall  well  and  quietly  enjoy. 

Reig.  And  I  again,  in  Henry's  royal  name,       160 
As  deputy  unto  that  gracious  king, 
Give  thee  her  hand,  for  sign  of  plighted  faith. 

Suf.  Reignier  of  France,  I  give  thee  kingly  thanks, 
Because  this  is  in  traffic  of  a  king. 
[Aside]  Aiid  yet,  methinks,  I  could  be  well 

content 
To  be  mine  own  attorney  in  this  case. 
I  '11  over  then  to  England  with  this  news. 
And  make  this  marriage  to  be  solemnized. 
So  farewell,  Reignier;  set  this  diamond  safe 
In  golden  palaces,  as  it  becomes.  1"0 

Reig.  I  do  embrace  thee,  as  I  would  embrace 

154.  "country";  so  the   Ff.;   Theobald,  "counties";  Capell,  "coun- 
tries"; Malone,  "county." — I.  G. 
164.  "in  traffic  of  a  king,"  in  a  king's  business.— C.  H.  H. 

131 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

The   Christian  prince,   King  Henry,  were  he 
here. 
Mar.  Farewell,  my  lord:  good  wishes,  praise  and 
prayers. 

Shall  Suffolk  ever  have  of  Margaret.     [Going, 
Stif.  Farewell,  sweet  madam:  but  hark  you,  Mar- 
garet ; 

No  princely  commendations  to  my  king? 
Mar.  Such  commendations  as  becomes  a  maid, 

A  virgin  and  his  servant,  say  to  him. 
Suf.  Words  sweetly  placed  and  modestly  directed. 

But,  madam,  I  must  trouble  you  again;        180 

No  loving  token  to  his  majesty? 
Mar.  Yes,  my  good  lord,  a  pure  unspotted  heart, 

Never  yet  taint  with  love,  I  send  the  king. 
Suf.  And  this  withal.  [Kisses  her. 

Mar.  That  for  thyself:  I  will  not  so  presume 

To  send  such  peevish  tokens  to  a  king. 

[Ea^eunt  Reignier  and  Margaret. 
Suf.  O,   wert   thou    for   myself!     But,    Suffolk, 
stay; 

Thou  mayst  not  wander  in  that  labyrinth; 

There  Minotaurs  and  ugly  treasons  lurk. 

Solicit  Henry  with  her  wondrous  praise:       190 

Bethink  thee  on  her  virtues  that  surmount. 

And  natural  graces  that  extinguish  art ; 

Repeat  their  semblance  often  on  the  seas, 

179.  "modestly";  F.  1,  "modestie."—!.  G. 

189.  "Minotaurs,"  monsters  (from  the  mythical  Minotaur  of  Crete, 
vanquished   by  Theseus). — C.   H.   H. 

192.  "And  natural";  Perring,  "Maid-natural";  Capell,  "And";  F. 
1,  "Mad";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Made";  Pope,  "Her";  Collier,  "'Mid";  Jackson 
conj.  "Man";  Barry,  "Made";  Vaughan,  "Mild."— I.  G. 

132 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  m 

That,  when  thou  comest  to  kneel  at  Henry's 
feet, 

Thou  mayst  bereave  him  of  his  wits  with  won- 
der. [Ea^it. 

Scene  IV 

Camp  of  the  Duke  of  York  in  Anjou. 

Enter  York,  Warwick,  and  others. 

York.  Erng   forth   that   sorceress   condemn'd  to 
burn. 

Enter  La  Pucelle,  guarded,  and  a  Shepherd. 

Shep.  Ah,  Joan,  this  kills  thy  father's  heart  out- 
right ! 
Have  I  sought  every  country  far  and  near, 
And  now  it  is  my  chance  to  lind  thee  out, 
Must  I  behold  thy  timeless  cruel  death? 
Ah,  Joan,  sweet  daughter  Joan,  I  '11  die  with 
thee! 

Puc.  Decrepit  miser!  base  ignoble  wretch! 
I  am  descended  of  a  gentler  blood: 
Thou  art  no  father  nor  no  friend  of  mine. 

Shep.  Out,  out!    My  lords,  as  please  you,  'tis  not 
so;  ^  10 

I  did  beget  her,  all  the  parish  knows: 
Her  mother  liveth  yet,  can  testify 
She  was  the  first  fruit  of  my  bachelorship. 

7.  "Miser"  has  no  relation  to  avarice  in  this  passage,  but  simply 
means  a  miserable  creature,  in  which  sense  it  was  often  used.— H. 
N.  H. 

133 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

War.  Graceless!  wilt  thou  deny  thy  parentage? 
York.  This  argues  what  her  kind  of  Hfe  hath  been, 

Wicked  and  vile ;  and  so  her  death  concludes. 
Shep.  Fie,  Joan,  that  thou  wilt  be  so  obstacle! 

God  knows  thou  art  a  collop  of  my  flesh; 

And  for  thy  sake  have  I  shed  many  a  tear: 

Deny  me  not,  I  prithee,  gentle  Joan.  20 

Puc.  Peasant,   avaunt!     You  have  suborn'd  this 
man, 

Of  purpose  to  obscure  my  noble  birth. 
Shep.  ^Tis  true,  I  gave  a  noble  to  the  priest 

The  morn  that  I  was  wedded  to  her  mother. 

Kneel  down  and  take  my  blessing,  good  my^ 
girl. 

Wilt  thou  not  stoop?    Now  cursed  be  the  time 

Of  thy  nativity!    I  would  the  milk 

Thy  mother  gave  thee  when  thou  suck'dst  her 
breast, 

Had  been  a  little  ratsbane  for  thy  sake! 

Or  else,  when  thou  didst  keep  my  lambs  a-field, 

I  wish  some  ravenous  wolf  had  eaten  thee!      31 

Dost  thou  deny  thy  father,  cursed  drab? 

O,  burn  her,  burn  her!  hanging  is  too  good. 

[Exit. 
York.  Take  her  away;  for  she  hath  lived  too  long. 

To  fill  the  world  with  vicious  qualities. 
Puc.  First,  let  me  tell  you  whom  you  have  con- 
demn'd : 

Not  me  begotten  of  a  shepherd  swain, 

17.  "Obstacle"  was  used  to  be  put  into  the  mouths  of  rustic  or  illit- 
erate speakers,  for  obstinate. — H.  N.  H. 

37.  "Not  me  begotten";  Anon.  conj.  "Me,  not  begotten";  Malone, 

134 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

But  issued  from  the  progeny  of  kings; 
Virtuous  and  holy;  ehosen  from  above, 
By  inspiration  of  celestial  grace,  40 

To  work  exceeding  miracles  on  earth. 
I  never  had  to  do  with  wicked  spirits: 
But  you,  that  are  polluted  with  your  lusts, 
Stain'd  with  the  guiltless  blood  of  innocents, 
Corrupt  and  tainted  with  a  thousand  vices, 
Because  you  want  the  grace  that  others  have, 
You  judge  it  straight  a  thing  impossible 
To  compass  wonders  but  by  help  of  devils. 
No,  misconceived!     Joan  of  Arc  hath  been 
A  virgin  from  her  tender  infancy,  50 

Chaste  and  inmiaculate  in  very  thought; 
Whose  maiden  blood,  thus  rigorously  effused. 
Will  cry  for  vengeance  at  the  gates  of  heaven. 

York.  Aye,  aye:  away  with  her  to  execution! 

War.  And  hark  ye,  sirs ;  because  she  is  a  maid. 
Spare  for  no  faggots,  let  there  be  enow: 
Place  barrels  of  pitch  upon  the  fatal  stake, 
That  so  her  torture  may  be  shortened. 

Puc.  Will  nothing  turn  your  unrelenting  hearts? 
Then,  Joan,  discover  thine  infirmity,  60 

That  warranteth  by  law  to  be  thy  privilege. 
I  am  with  child,  ye  bloody  homicides : 
Murder  not  then  the  fruit  within  my  womb, 
Although  ye  hale  me  to  a  violent  death. 


(/ 


Not    one    begotten";    Anon,    conj.    "Not    mean-begotten." — I.     G. 

49.  "No,  misconceived!";  so  Steevens;  Ff.  1,  Q,  3,  "No  miscon- 
ceircd,"  F.  4,  "no,  misconceived  Joan";  Capell,  "No,  misconceive rs"; 
Vaughan,  "No,  misconceited!" — I.  G. 

"misconceived,"  misjudging  one. — C.   H.   H. 


185 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

York.  Now  heaven  forfend!  the  holy  maid  with 

child! 
War.  The  greatest  miracle  that  e'er  ye  wrought: 

Is  all  your  strict  preciseness  come  to  this? 
York.  She  and  the  Dauphin  have  been  juggling: 

I  did  imagine  what  would  be  her  refuge. 
War.  Well,  go  to ;  we  '11  have  no  bastards  live ;     70 

Especially  since  Charles  must  father  it. 
Puc.  You  are  deceived;  my  child  is  none  of  his: 

It  was  Alen^on  that  enjoy'd  my  love. 
KorA:.  Alen9on!  that  notorious  Machiavel! 

It  dies,  an  if  it  had  a  thousand  lives. 
Puc.  O,  give  me  leave,  I  have  deluded  you: 

'Twas    neither    Charles   nor   yet    the    duke    I 
named, 

But  Reignier,  king  of  Naples,  that  prevail'd. 
War.  A  married  man !  that 's  most  intolerable. 
York.  Why,  here  's  a  girl !    I  think  she  knows  not 
well  80 

There  were  so  many,  whom  she  may  accuse. 
War.  It 's  sign  she  hath  been  liberal  and  free. 
York.  And  yet,  forsooth,  she  is  a  virgin  pure. 

78.  For  this  murdering  of  tiie  heroic  maiden's  character, — a  thing 
more  cruel  than  her  death  itself, — Shakespeare  had  the  authority 
of  the  chroniclers,  and,  doubtless,  of  popular  tradition.  The  fol- 
lowing is  Holinshed's  story:  "But  herein,  she  fullie  afore  possest 
of  the  feend,  not  able  to  hold  hir  in  anie  towardnesse  of  grace, 
falling  streight  waie  into  hir  former  abominations,  yet  seeking  to 
eetch  out  life  as  long  as  she  might,  stake  not  to  confesse  hir  selfe 
a  strumpet,  and  to  be  with  child.  For  triall,  the  lord  regents  len- 
itie  gave  hir  nine  months  stale,  at  the  end  whereof  she  found  herein 
as  false  as  wicked  in  the  rest,  and  eight  dales  after  was  delivered 
over  to  secular  power,  and  so  executed  by  consumption  of  fire  in 
the  old  market  place  at  Rone."— H.  N.  H. 

136 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  iv. 

Strumpet,   thy  words  condemn  thy    brat  and 

thee : 
Use  no  entreaty,  for  it  is  in  vain. 
Puc.  Then  lead  me  hence;  M'ith  whom  I  leave  my 
curse : 
May  never  glorious  sun  reflex  his  beams 
Upon  the  country  where  you  make  abode: 
But  darkness  and  the  gloomy  shade  of  death 
Environ  you,  till  mischief  and  despair  90 

Drive  you  to  break  your  necks  or  hang  your- 
selves! [Exit,  guarded 
York.  Break  thou  in  pieces  and  consume  to  ashes. 
Thou  foul  accursed  minister  of  hell! 

Enter  Cardinal  Beaufort,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 

attended. 

Car.  Lord  regent,  I  do  greet  your  excellence 
With  letters  of  commission  from  the  king. 
For  know,  my  lord,  the  states  of  Christendom, 

93.  Joan  of  Arc  was  burned,  as  "an  agent  of  the  devil,"  at  Rouen, 
May  30,  14.31.  The  inhuman  sentence  was  the  result  of  an  ec- 
clesiastical trial,  at  wliich  the  bishop  of  Beauvais  presided,  she 
having  been  taUen  in  his  diocese.  Yet  the  violence  of  her  enemies 
was  not  so  cruel  as  the  neglect  of  those  who  ought  to  have  been  her 
friends.  The  matter  is  thus  stated  by  Lingard:  "If  ever  prince 
were  indebted  to  a  subject,  Charles  VII  was  indebted  to  Joan  of  Arc. 
She  had  dispelled  the  terror  with  which  success  had  invested  the 
English  arms,  had  reanimated  the  courage  of  the  French  soldiery, 
and  had  firmly  established  tlie  king  on  the  throne  of  his  ancestors. 
Yet,  from  the  moment  of  her  captivity  she  appears  to  have  been  for- 
gotten. We  read  not  of  any  sum  offered  for  her  ransom,  or  attempt 
made  to  alleviate  the  rigor  of  her  confinement,  or  notice  taken  of 
her  trial  and  execution."— Perhaps  it  should  l)e  alleged  in  the  Poet's 
behalf,  that  without  any  attempt  at  moral  didactics  he  makes  us  re- 
sent the  atrocious  cruelty  put  upon  the  maiden;  though  he  hints  not 
the  hard  ingratitude  of  those  whose  deliverance  she  had  wrought.— 
H.  N.  H. 

137 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Moved  with  remorse  of  these  outrageous  broils, 
Have  earnestly  implored  a  general  peace 
Betwixt  our  nation  and  the  aspiring  French; 
And  here  at  hand  the  Dauphin  and  his  train  100 
Approacheth,  to  confer  about  some  matter. 

York.  Is  all  our  travail  turn'd  to  this  effect? 
After  the  slaughter  of  so  many  peers, 
So  many  captains,  gentlemen  and  soldiers, 
That  in  this  quarrel  have  been  overthrown. 
And  sold  their  bodies  for  their  country's  benefit, 
Shall  we  at  last  conclude  effeminate  peace? 
Have  we  not  lost  most  part  of  all  the  towns. 
By  treason,   falsehood  and  by  treachery, 
Our  great  progenitors  had  conquered?  HO 

O,  Warwick,  Warwick!     I  foresee  with  grief 
The  utter  loss  of  all  the  realm  of  France. 

War.  Be  patient,  York :  if  we  conclude  a  peace. 
It  shall  be  with  such  strict  and  severe  covenants 
As  little  shall  the  Frenchmen  gain  thereby. 

Enter  Charles,  Alen^on,  Bastard,  Reignier, 

and  others, 

Char.  Since,  lords  of  England,  it  is  thus  agreed 
That    peaceful   truce    shall   be    proclaim'd   in 

France, 
We  come  to  be  informed  by  yourselves 
What  the  conditions  of  that  league  must  be. 
York.  Speak,     Winchester;     for    boiling    choler 
chokes  120 

The  hollow  passage  of  my  poison'd  voice. 
By  sight  of  these  our  baleful  enemies. 

121.  "Poison'd";  Theobald,  "prison'd."—!.  G. 
138 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

Car.  Charles,  and  the  rest,  it  is  enacted  thus : 
That,  in  regard  King  Henry  gives  consent, 
Of  mere  compassion  and  of  lenity, 
To  ease  your  country  of  distressful  war, 
And  suffer  )'ou  to  hreathe  in  fruitful  peace, 
You  sliall  hecome  true  liegemen  to  his  crown: 
And,  Charles,  upon  condition  thou  wilt  swear 
To  pay  him  tribute,  and  submit  thyself,         130 
Thou  shalt  be  placed  as  viceroy  under  him, 
And  still  enjoy  the  regal  dignity. 

Alen.  JNIust  he  be  then  as  shadow  of  himself? 
Adorn  his  temples  with  a  coi-onet. 
And  yet,  in  substance  and  authority. 
Retain  but  privilege  of  a  private  man? 
This  proffer  is  absurd  and  reasonless. 

Char.  'Tis  known  already  that  I  am  possess'd 
With  more  than  half  the  Gallian  territories, 
And  therein  reverenced  for  their  lawful  king: 
Shall  I,  for  lucre  of  the  rest  unvanquish'd,    141 
Detract  so  much  from  that  prerogative. 
As  to  be  call'd  but  viceroy  of  the  whole? 
No,  lord  ambassador,  I  '11  rather  keep 
That  which  I  have  than,  coveting  for  more, 
Be  cast  from  possibility  of  all. 

York.  Insulting  Charles !  hast  thou  by  secret  means 
Used  intercession  to  obtain  a  league. 
And,  now  the  matter  grows  to  compromise, 
Stand'st  thou  aloof  upon  comparison?         150 
Either  accept  the  title  thou  usurp 'st, 

150.  "Stand'st  thou  aloof  wpon  comparison?"  "Do  you  stand  to 
compare  your  present  state,  a  state  which  you  have  neither  right 
nor  power  to  maintain,  with  the  terms  which  we  offer?" — Johnson. 

1S9 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Of  benefit  proceeding  from  our  king 

And  not  of  any  challenge  of  desert, 

Or  we  will  plague  thee  with  incessant  wars. 

Reig.  My  lord,  you  do  not  well  in  obstinacy 
To  cavil  in  the  course  of  this  contract : 
If  once  it  be  neglected,  ten  to  one 
We  shall  not  find  like  opportunity. 

Alen.  To  saj^  the  truth,  it  is  your  policy 

To  save  your  subjects  from  such  massacre      160 
And  ruthless  slaughters,  as  are  daily  seen, 
By  our  proceeding  in  hostility; 
And  therefore  take  this  compact  of  a  truce, 
Although   you   break   it   when   your    pleasure 
serves. 

War.  How  say'st  thou,  Charles?  shall  our  condi- 
tion stand? 

Char.  It  shall ; 

Only  reserved,  you  claim  no  interest 
In  any  of  our  towns  of  garrison. 

York.  Then  swear  allegiance  to  his  majesty, 
As  thou  art  knight,  never  to  disobey  170 

Nor  be  rebellious  to  the  crown  of  England 
Thou,  nor  thy  nobles,  to  the  crown  of  England. 
So,  now  dismiss  your  army  when  ye  please; 
Hang  up  your  ensigns,  let  your  drums  be  still, 
For  here  we  entertain  a  solemn  peace. 

[Ea^eunt. 

152.  "As  a  gift  conferred  by  our  king";  benefit  is.  as  a  term  of 
law,  the  bestowal  of  property  by  another. — C.  H.  H. 

175.  This  peace,  which  was  in  reality  but  a  truce,  was  negotiated 
by  Suffolk,  who  had  been  sent  as  ambassador  for  that  purpose,  an 
instrument  having  been  first  signed  by  the  king  and  approved  by 
the  parliament,  authorizing  him  to  conduct  the  treaty  to  the  best 
of  his  abilities,  and  pardoning  beforehand  every  error  of  judgment 

140 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  v. 


Scene  V 

London,    The  royal  palace. 

Enter  Suffolk  in  conference  with  the  King, 
Gloucester  and  Exeter. 

King.  Your  wondrous  rare  description,  noble  earl. 
Of  beauteous  Margaret  hath  astonish'd  me: 
Her  virtues  graced  with  external  gifts 
Do  breed  love's  settled  passions  in  my  heart: 
And  like  as  rigor  of  tempestuous  gusts 
Provokes  the  mightiest  hulk  against  the  tide, 
So  am  I  driven  by  breath  of  her  renown, 
Either  to  suffer  shipwreck  or  arrive 
Where  I  may  have  fruition  of  her  love. 

Suf.  Tush,  my  good  lord,  this  superficial  tale      10 

into  which  he  might  fall.  The  meeting  of  ambassadors  was  at 
Tours  in  February,  14-14;  where  many  things  were  moved  for  a 
final  peace,  but  the  best  they  could  come  to  was  a  truce  for  eight- 
een months.  For  the  rest,  we  give  the  words  of  Holinshed:  "In 
treating  of  this  truce,  the  earle  of  Suffolke,  adventuring  somewhat 
upon  his  commission,  v,ithout  the  assent  of  his  associats,  imagined 
that  the  next  waie  to  come  to  a  perfect  peace  was  to  contrive  a 
mariage  betweene  the  French  kings  kinswoman,  the  ladie  Margaret, 
daughter  to  Reiner  duke  of  Anjou,  and  his  sovereigne  lord  king 
Henrie.  This  Reiner  duke  of  Anjou  named  himselfe  king  of  Sicill, 
Naples,  and  Jerusalem,  having  onlie  the  name  and  stile  of  those 
realmes,  without  anie  penie,  profit,  or  foot  of  possession.  This 
mariage  was  made  strange  to  the  earle  at  the  first,  and  one  thing 
seemed  to  be  a  great  hinderance  to  it;  which  was,  bicause  the  king 
of  England  occupied  a  great  part  of  the  duchy  of  Anjou  and  the 
whole  county  of  Maine,  appertaining,  as  was  alledged,  to  king 
Reiner. — The  earle  condescended  that  .Anjou  and  Maine  should  be 
delivered  to  the  brides  fatiier,  demanding  for  hir  mariage  neither 
penie  nor  fathing;  as  who  would  sale  this  new  affinitie  passed  all 
riches,  and  excelled  both  gold  and  precious  stones." — H.  N.  H. 

141 


Act  V.  Sc.  V.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

Is  but  a  preface  of  her  worthy  praise; 

The  chief  perfections  of  that  lovely  dame. 

Had  I  sufficient  skill  to  utter  them, 

Would  make  a  volume  of  enticing  lines. 

Able  to  ravish  any  dull  conceit: 

And,  which  is  more,  she  is  not  so  divine, 

So  full-replete  with  choice  of  all  delights, 

But  with  as  humble  lowliness  of  mind 

She  is  content  to  be  at  your  command; 

Command,  I  mean,  of  virtuous  chaste  intents. 

To  love  and  honor  Henry  as  her  lord.  21 

King.  And  otherwise  will  Henry  ne'er  presume. 
Therefore,  my  lord  protector,  give  consent 
That  Margaret  may  be  England's  royal  queen. 

Glou.  So  should  I  give  consent  to  flatter  sin. 

You  know,  my  lord,  your  highness  is  betroth'd 
Unto  another  lady  of  esteem: 
How  shall  we  then  dispense  with  that  contract, 
And  not  deface  your  honor  with  reproach? 

Suf.  As  doth  a  ruler  with  unlawful  oaths;  30 

Or  one  that,  at  a  triumph  having  vow'd 
To  try  his  strength,  forsaketh  yet  the  lists 
By  reason  of  his  adversary's  odds: 
A  poor  earl's  daughter  is  unequal  odds, 
And  therefore  may  be  broke  without  offense. 

Glou.  Why,  what,  I  pray,  is  Margaret  more  than 
that? 
Her  father  is  no  better  than  an  earl. 
Although  in  glorious  titles  he  excel. 

Suf.  Yes,  my  lord,  her  father  is  a  king, 

39.  "Yes,  my   lord";  so  F.   1-.   Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Yes,  my  good  lord"; 

142  - 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  v. 

The  King  of  Naples  and  Jerusalem;  40 

And  of  such  great  authority  in  France, 
As  his  alliance  will  confirm  our  peace, 
And  keep  the  Frenchman  in  allegiance. 

Glou.  And  so  the  Earl  of  Armagnac  may  do, 
Because  he  is  near  kinsman  unto  Charles. 

Ea^e.  Beside,   his   wealth   doth  warrant  a   liberal 
dower, 
Where  Reignier  sooner  will  receive  than  give. 

Suf.  A  dower,  my  lords !  disgrace  not  so  your  king, 
That  he  should  be  so  abject,  base  and  poor. 
To  choose  for  wealth  and  not  for  perfect  love. 
Henry  is  able  to  enrich  his  queen,  51 

And  not  to  seek  a  queen  to  make  him  rich: 
So  worthless  peasants  bargain  for  their  wives. 
As  market-men  for  oxen,  sheep,  or  horse. 
INIarriage  is  a  matter  of  more  worth 
Than  to  be  dealt  in  by  attorneyship; 
Not  whom  we  will ;  but  whom  his  grace  affects, 
Must  be  companion  of  his  nuptial  bed: 
And  therefore,  lords,  since  he  affects  her  most, 
It  most  of  all  these  reasons  bindeth  us,  60 

In  our  opinions  she  should  be  preferr'd. 
For  what  is  wedlock  forced  but  a  hell, 
An  age  of  discord  and  continual  strife? 
Whereas  the  contrary  bringeth  bliss. 

Anon.  conj.  "Yes,  yes,  my  lord,"  or  "Why,  yes,  my  lord";  Dyce,  "O, 
yes,  my  lord";  Vaughan,  "Yes,  viy  lord — more." — I.  G. 

55.  "Marriage";  so  F.  1 ;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  read  "But  marriage";  perhaps 
we  should  read  "marriage." — I.  G. 

56.  "attorneyship,"  that   is,  by  the  intervention  of  another  man's 
choice;  or  the  discretional  agency  of  another. — H.  N.  H. 

64.  "bringeth,"  the  reading  of  F.  1;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "bringeth  forth"; 

14,8 


Act  V.  Sc.  V.  THE  FIRST  PART  OF 

And  is  a  pattern  of  celestial  peace. 

Whom  should  we  match  with  Henry,  being  a 

king, 
But  Margaret,  that  is  daughter  to  a  king? 
Her  peerless  feature,  joined  with  her  birth, 
Approves  her  fit  for  none  but  for  a  king: 
Her  valiant  courage  and  undaunted  spirit,      70 
Islore  than  in  women  commonly  is  seen. 
Will  answer  our  hope  in  issue  of  a  king; 
For  Henry,  son  unto  a  conqueror. 
Is  likely  to  beget  more  conquerors, 
If  with  a  lady  of  so  high  resolve 
As  is  fair  Margaret  he  be  link'd  in  love. 
Then  yield,  my  lords;  and  here  conclude  with 

me 
That  Margaret  shall  be  queen,  and  none  but 

she. 
King.  Whether  it  be  through  force  of  your  report. 
My  noble  Lord  of  Suffolk,  or  for  that  80 

My  tender  youth  was  never  yet  attaint 
With  any  passion  of  inflaming  love, 
I  cannot  tell ;  but  this  I  am  assured, 
I  feel  such  sharp  dissension  in  my  breast. 
Such  fierce  alarums  both  of  hope  and  fear. 
As  I  am  sick  with  working  of  my  thoughts. 
Take,  therefore,  shipping;  post,  my  lord,  to 

France ; 
Agree  to  any  covenants,  and  procure 
That  Lady  Margaret  do  vouchsafe  to  come 

perhaps  the  tliflBculty  of  the  line  is  due  to  the  quadrisyllable  nature 
of  the  word  "contrary"=:"c6nterdry." — I.  G. 

144 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  v. 

To  cross  the  seas  to  Engliind,  and  be  crown'd  90 
King  Henry's  faithful  and  anointed  queen: 
For  your  expenses  and  sufficient  charge, 
Among  the  people  gather  up  a  tenth. 
Be  gone,  I  say;  for,  till  you  do  return, 
I  rest  perplexed  with  a  thousand  cares. 
And  you,  good  uncle,  banish  all  offense: 
If  you  do  censure  me  Ly  what  you  were, 
Not  what  vou  are,  I  know  it  will  excuse 
This  sudden  execution  of  my  will. 
And  so,  conduct  me  where,  from  company,    100 
I  may  revolve  and  ruminate  my  grief.     [Exit. 

Glou.  Aye,  grief,  I  fear  me,  both  at  first  and  last. 

[Exeunt  Gloucester  and  Exeter. 

Suf.  Thus   Suffolk  hath  prevalil'd;   and  thus  he 
goes, 
As  did  the  youthful  Paris  once  to  Greece, 
With  hope  to  find  the  like  event  in  love, 
But  prosper  better  than  the  Trojan  did. 
Margaret   shall  now   be  queen,   and   rule   the 

king; 
But  I  will  rule  both  her,  the  king  and  realm. 

[Exit. 

90.  "To  cross";  Walker,  "Across."— I.  G. 

97.  To  "censure"  is  here  simply  to  judcfc.     "If  in  judging  me  you 
consider  the  past  frailties  of  your  own  youth." — H.  K.  H. 

108.  Suffolk  set  forth  on  this  expedition  in  October,  1444.  Thus 
stands  the  account  in  Holinshed:  "The  earle  of  Suffolke  was  made 
marquesse  of  SuflFoIke,  which  niarquesse,  with  his  wife  and  manie 
honorable  personages  of  men  and  women,  richlie  adorned  both  with 
apparell  and  jewels,  having  with  them  manie  costlie  chariots  and 
gorgeous  horslitters,  sailed  into  France  for  the  conveiance  of  the 
nominated  queene  into  the  realme  of  England.  For  king  Reiner,  hir 
fatlier,  for  all  his  long  stile,  had  too  short  a  pursse  to  send  his 
daughter  honorablie  to  the  king  hir  spouse." — H.  N.  H, 
Shk-1-18  145 


GLOSSARY 


By-  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. 


Accidents,  events;  V.  iii.  4. 
Accomplices,  fellows  in  arms;  V. 

ii.  9. 
Adjionishments,  instructions;  II. 

V.  98. 
Advantage,  occasion;   II.  v.   129. 
Affects,  cares   for,  loves;   V.  v. 

57. 
Agazed  on,  aghast  at,  gazing  with 

amazement  at;  I.  i.  126. 
Alcides,  Hercules;  IV.  vii.  60. 
Alliance,     relationship;     II.     v. 

53. 
Amaze,  throw  into  consternation; 


IV.  vii.  84. 


quite  dejected; 


Amort,   "all  a. 
III.  ii.  124. 

Antic,  buffoon;  (Ff.  1,  2,  "an- 
tique"; Ff,  3,  4,  "antick") ;  IV. 
vii.  18. 

Apparell'd,  dressed;  II.  iv.  22. 

Apparent,  evident,  plain;  II.  i.  3. 

Apprehension,  conception  of  me; 
(Theobald,  "reprehension" ; 
Vaughan,  "misapprehension" 
for  "this  ap.")  ;  II.  iv.  102. 

Argue,  show,  prove;  II.  v.  7. 

Argument,  token;  V.  i.  46. 

Arms,  coat  of  arms;  I.  i.  80. 

As,  that;  III.  i.  16. 

Astr.iza,  goddess  of  justice;  (Ff. 
2,  3,  4,  "bright  Astrwa") ;  I.  vi. 
4. 

Attached,  arrested;   II.   iv.   96. 

Attaint,  tainted;  V.  v.  81. 

Attainted,  tainted,  disgraced,  II. 


— at 

capital 


iv.     92;     convicted    of 
treason,  II.  iv.  96. 
Attorneyship,  discretional 
agency  of  another;  V.  v.  56. 

Banding,  uniting  in  troops;  III. 
i.  81. 

Banning,  cursing;  V.  iii.  42. 

Bat;  "stand  at  b.,"  a  term  of  the 
chase,  "when  the  game  is  driven 
to  extremity  and  turns  against 
its  pursuers";  IV.  ii.  52. 

Beard;  "b.  thee  to  thy  face,"  set 
thee  at  defiance;  I.  iii.  44. 

Beabing-cloth,  the  cloth  or  man- 
tle in  which  the  child  was  car- 
ried to  the  font;  I.  iii.  42. 

Benefit;  "of  b.,"  used  in  its  le- 
gal sense  of  property  bestowed 
by  the  favor  of  another;  V. 
iv.  152. 

Beside,  besides;  III.  i.  24. 

Best;  "I  were  best,"  it  were  bet- 
ter for  me;  V.  iii.  83. 

Bestow,  place,  lodge;  III.  ii.  88. 

Bewray'd,  betrayed;  IV.  i.  107. 

Bishop;  "the  b.  and  the  D.  of 
Gloucester's  men";  i.  e.  bishop's 
men  (Hanmer,  "Bishop's"); 
III.  i.  78. 

Blood;  "in  b.,"  in  perfect  health 
and  vigor;  a  technical  term  of 
tlie  chase;  IV.  ii.  48. 

Blue  coats,  blue  was  the  ordi- 
nary color  of  the  livery  of 
serving-men;   I.  iii.  47. 


146 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


Boot;  "it  is  no  b.,"  it  is  no  profit, 

use;  IV.  vl.  51^. 
Bought  and  sold,  betrayed;  IV. 

iv.  1:J. 
Bounds,  boundaries,  limits;  I.  ii. 

54. 
Bow,  depart  (Collier  MS.,  "fly"; 

Long     MS.,     "go";     Vaughan, 

"buiUje");  IV.  V.  i39. 
Braved,  defied;  II.  iv.  115., 
Bkeak,   broach;    (Pope,   "tell"); 

I.  iii.  81. 
Break    up,    break    open;    (Gray 

conjectured   "Break   ope");    I. 

iii.  13. 
Bruited,    noised  abroad;    II.   iii. 

()8. 
Buckle  with,  join  in  close  fight 

with;  I.  ii.  95. 
Bull-beeves,  oxen  beef;  I.  ii.  9. 

Canker,  canker-worm;  II.  iv.  68. 

Canvass,  toss  as  in  a  canvass, 
"toss  in  a  blanket";  I.  iii.  3C. 

Cap,  Cardinal's  hat;  V.  i.  33. 

Captivate,  captive;  II.  iii.  42. 

Cates,  delicacies,  dainties;  II.  iii. 
79. 

Censure,  judgment,  opinion;  II. 
iii.  10. 

Censvue,  judge;  V.  v.  97. 

Challenge,  claim;  V.  iv.   153. 

Charge,  expense,  cost;  V.  v.  9i?. 

Cheer,  countenance;  I.  ii.  48. 

Circumstance,  circumstances,  de- 
tails; I.  i.  109. 

Clubs,  "I'll  call  for  clubs",  "in 
any  public  affray  the  cry  was, 
triubs  !  clubs  !'  by  way  of  call- 
i'ng  for  persons  with  clubs  to 
part  the  combatants"  (Xares)  ; 
I.  iii.  84. 

Coat,  coat  of  arms;  I.  i.  81. 

Cognizance,  badge;  II.  iv.  108. 

CoLLOP,  slice  of  meat;  V.  iv.  18. 

Colors,  pretence  (with  play  upon 


the  two  senses  of  the  word); 
II.  iv.  34. 

Com -MA  NOME  NT,  command;  quad- 
risyllabic;  (Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "com- 
niaiidcment") ;  I.  iii.  20. 

Conceit,  invention,  IV.  i.  102; 
understanding,  V.  v.  15. 

Consented  unto,  conspired  to 
bring  about;  I.  i.  5. 

Contemptible,  mean,  low;  I.  ii.  75. 

CoNTuMELiocsLY;  contcmptuous- 
ly;  I.  iii.  58. 

Conveyance,  dishonest  practice  ; 
I.  iii.  2. 

Cooling  card,  "something  to 
damp  or  overwhelm  the  hope 
of  an  expectant";  V.  iii.  84. 

Cornets,  horsemen,  cavalry;  IV. 
iii.  25. 

Corrosive,  fretting,  giving  pain: 
(Ff.,  2,  3,  "corrasive";  Boswell, 
"a  corrosive");  III.  iii.  3. 

Court  of  guard,  main  guard- 
house; II.  1.  4. 

Crazy,  decrepit,  weak;  III.  ii.  89. 

Crestless,  with  no  right  to  coat- 
armor;  II.  iv.  85. 
Cunning,  skill;  III.  iii.  10. 

Damascus;  alluding  to  the  an- 
cient belief  that  it  was  near  the 
place  where  Cain  killed  Abel; 
I.  iii.  39. 

Darnel,  a  kind  of  weed,  rye- 
grass, which  is  thought  to  be 
injurious  to  the  eyes;  hence  the 
old  proverb,  lelio  victUare  (to 
feed  on  darnel);  "tares"  in 
Matthew  xiii.  25,  should  pcr- 
hajis  properly  be  rendered 
"darnels";  III',  ii.  44. 

Dead,  (F.  2,  "dread")  \  I.  iii.  34. 

Dearest,  most  precious;  III.  iv. 
40. 

Denis;  "Saint  Denis,"  the  patron 
saint  of  France;  I.  vi.  28. 


147 


Glossary 


THE  FIRST  PART  OF 


Determined,  limited;  IV.  vi.  9. 
Devise      ok,     lay      schemes ; 
(Vaughan,  "decide")  ;  I.  ii.  124. 
Diffidence,    distrust,    suspicion; 

III.  iii.  10. 

Digest,  vent;    (F.   2,   "disgest") ; 

IV.  i.  167. 

Disable,    disparage,    undervalue ; 

V.  iii.  67. 
Disco\'ER,  tell;  II.  v.  59. 
Disease,    cauSvs    of    mjeasiness, 

trouble;  II,  v.  44. 
Dismay    not,   be   not   dismayed; 

III.  iii.  1. 

Distrain'd,  taken  possession   of; 

I.  iii.  61. 

Drooping  chair,  chair  fit  for  de- 
clining age;   IV.  v.  5. 

Due,  endue  (  ?  give  as  thy  due) ; 
(Ff.,  "dew";  Collier,  " 'd^e") ; 

IV.  ii.  34. 

Dumb  significants,  signs,  indica- 
tions ;  (Pope,  "d.  significance")  ; 

II.  iv.  26. 

Effused,  shed;  V.  iv.  52. 
Emulation,    rivalry,    contention; 

IV.  iv.  21. 
Endamage,  injure;  II.  i.  77. 
Enrank,   place   in   order,   battle 

array;  I.  i.  115. 
Entertain,  maintain,  keep;  (Col- 
lier   MS.,    "enter change") ;    V. 

iv.  175. 
Envy,  enmity;  IV.  i.  193. 
Espials,  spies;  I.  iv.  8. 
Exempt,    cut    off,    excluded;    II. 

iv.  93. 
Exequies,  obsequies,  funeral 

rites;  III.  ii.  133. 
Exigent,     end;      (Vaughan, 

"exeunt") ;  II.  v.  9. 
Expulsed,  expelled;  III.  iii.  25. 
Extirped,  extirpated;  III.  iii.  24. 
Extremes,    "most    ex.,"    greatest 


extremities   of   danger;    (Han- 
raer,  "worst  ex.")  ;  IV.  i.  38. 

Face,  lie  with  eflFrontery;  V.  iii. 
142. 

Familiar,  familiar  spirit;  III.  ii. 
122. 

Fancy,  love;  V.  iii.  91. 

Fashion  (Pope,  "passion";  Theo- 
bald, "faction");  II.  iv.  76. 

FEATURE)  make,  formj  V.  v,  68.    ,, 

Flesh,  initiate;  IV.  vii.  36. 

Flower-de-luces,  the  white  lilies, 
the  emblem  of  France;  I.  i.  80. 

Fond,  foolish;  II.  iii.  45. 

FooT-BOYs,  lackeys;  III.  ii.  69. 

Forged,  counterfeit;  IV.  i.  102. 

Forlorn,  utterly  wretched,  re- 
ferring to  former  wretched- 
ness; (Collier  MS.,  "for- 
borne") ;  I.  ii.  19. 

Forth,  forth  from,  from  out;  I. 
ii.  54. 

Fortune,  fate;  IV.  iv.  39. 

France  his  Sword,  France's 
sword,  i.  e.  the  sword  of  the 
King  of  France;  (Rowe, 
"France's") ;  IV.  vi.  3. 

Froissart,  (Ff.,  "Froysard");  I. 
ii.  29. 

Giglot,  wanton;  IV.  vii.  41. 

Gimmors,  gimcracks,  curious  con- 
trivances; (Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Oim- 
malls");  I.  ii.  41. 

Gird,  rebuke;  III.  i.  131. 

Gird,  invest;  (Ff.  1,  2,  "gyrt"; 
F.  3,  "girt") ;  III.  i.  171. 

Gleeks;  "Charles  his  g.,"  {.  e. 
Charles  scoffs;  (Ff.,  "glikes"); 
III.  ii.  123. 

Gloss,  specious  appearance;  IV. 
i.  103. 

GoLiASEs,  Goliaths;  I.  ii.  33, 

Graceless,  profligate;  V.  iv.  14. 


148 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


Grave,  dignified;  (Collier, 
"brave") ;  V.  i.  54. 

Grisly,  grim,  terrible;  I.  iv.  47. 

GuARDANT,  guard,  sentinel;  IV. 
vii.  9. 

Halcyon  days;  (Ff.  1,  3,  "Hal- 
cyons days");  calm  days;  hal- 
cyon is  the  old  name  of  the 
King-fisher.  In  Holland's 
Pliny  occurs  the  following-  il- 
lustrative passage: — "They  lay 
and  sit  about  mid-winter  when 
days  be  shortest;  and  the  times 
whiles  they  are  broody  is  called 
Halcyon  days,  for  during  that 
season  the  sea  is  calm  and 
navigable,  especially  on  the 
coast  of  Sicily"  (Bk.  X.,  ch. 
xxxii.)  ;  I,  il.  131. 

Hand;  "out  of  h.,"  directly,  at 
once;  III.  ii.  109. 

Haughty,  high-spirited,  adven- 
turous; II.  V.  79. 

Have  with  thee,  I'll  go  with 
you;  II.  iv.  114. 

Head,  armed  force;  I.  iv.  100. 

Heart-blood,  heart's  blood;  I.  iii. 
83. 

Heavens,  technically  the  upper 
part  of  the  stage  (overhung 
Avith  black  when  a  tragedy  was 
enacted) ;  I.  i.  1. 

His,  "his  beams";  its;  I.  i.  10. 

Hungry-starntd,  starved  with 
hunger;  so  Ff.  1,  9,  3;  F.  4, 
"hungry-starved" ;  Rowe,  hun- 
ger-starved"; Boswell,  "hungry, 
starved";  I.  iv.  5. 

IcARfS,  the  son  of  Daedalus,  "sire 
of  Crete,"  wlio,  attempting  to 
follow  his  father's  example  and 
fly  on  wings,  was  drowne.I  in 
the  sea;  TV.  vi.  55. 

Immanity,  ferocity;  V.  i.  13. 

Inkiiorn     MATE,     bookish     man 

1 


(used  contemptuously);  III.  i. 

99. 
iNsur.TtNG,  exulting;  I.  ii.  138. 
Intermissive,  having  a  temporary 

cessation;  I.  i.  88. 
Irks,  grieves;  I.  iv.  105. 

Juggling  (trisyllabic) ;  V.  iv.  68. 

Kindly,  appropriate;  III.  i.  131. 

Latter,  last  (F.  4,  "later";  Pope, 

"latest");  II.  v.  38. 
Lie,  dwell  (Pope,  "lyes")-.  III.  ii. 

\2Q. 
Lift,    lifted    (old    form    of   past 

tense)  ;  I.  i.  16. 
Like,    liken,    compare    (Hanmer, 

"leave  me  to";  Vaughan,  "take 

me  so") ;  IV.  vi.  48. 
Linstock,    a    stick    to    hold    the 

gunner's  match;  I.  iv.  56. 
LiTHER,  soft,  pliant;. IV.  vii.  21. 
Loaden,  laden;   II.   i.  80. 
Long  of,  because  of   (Ff.,  "long 

of");  IV.  iii.  33. 
Lowly,    brought    low,    lying    low 

(Warburton,     "lovely");     III. 

iii.  47. 
LowTED,  made  a  fool  of   (Grey, 

"flouted";       Nicholson,       "loi- 
ter'd" ;     Vaughan,      "letted") ; 

IV.  iii.  13. 

Machiavel,  used  proverbially  for 
a  crafty  politician  (here  an 
anachronism);  V.  iv.  74. 

Malice,  hatred,  III.  i.  128;  en- 
mity, ill-will,  IV.  i.  108. 

Manifest,  obvious,  evident;  I. 
iii.  33. 

Mean,  moderation,  medium;  I.  ii. 
121. 

Mean,  means,  instrument;  III. 
ii.  10. 

Method,    "the    m.    of    my    pen," 

49 


Glossary 


THE  FIKST  PART  OF 


t.  e.  the  order  in  which  I  wrote 
it  down  (Vaughan,  "them  of 
my  pen"  or,  the  method  of 
them")  ;  III.  i.  13. 

MicKLE,  great,  much  (Theobald, 
"milky");   IV.   vi.   35. 

MixoTAuus,  alluding  to  the  mon- 
sters in  the  Cretan  Labyrinth; 
V.  ili.  189. 

Miscarry,  be  lost,  die;  IV.  iii.  IG. 

Misconceived,  misjudging  one; 
y.  iv.  49. 

Miser,  miserable  wretch;  V.  iv.  7. 

Monarch  of  the  North,  Lucifer 
(as  in  Milton),  or  perhaps  the 
devil  Zimimar,  mentioned  by- 
Reginald  Scot  as  "the  king  of 
the  north";  V.  iii.  6. 

Mortality,  death;  IV.  v.  32. 

MoTiox,  offer,  proposal;  V.  i. 
7. 

Mouth,  bark,  bay;  II.  iv.  12. 

Muleters,  mule-drivers  (Rowe, 
"muleteers");  III.  ii.  68. 

Munition,  ammunition;  I.  i.  168. 

Muse,  marvel,  wonder;  II.  ii.  19. 

Neglection,  neglect;  IV.  iii.  49. 

Nephew,  used  loosely  for  cousin 
(Rowe,  "cousin");  II.  v.  64. 

Nestor-like,  i.  e.  like  Nestor,  the 
oldest  and  wisest  hero  before 
Troy;  II.  v.  6. 

Noble,  a  gold  coin  of  the  value 
of  six  shillings  and  eight  pence; 
V.  iv.  23. 

Nourish,  probably  ^'nurse"  (of- 
ten spelled  "norice,"  or  "nur- 
ice"  in  older  English);  Theo- 
bald conjectured  "nourice,"  the 
French  spelling.  Steevens 
states  that  a  stew,  in  which 
fish  are  preserved,  was  ancient- 
ly called  a  "nourish";  (Pope, 
"marish,"  the  older  form  of 
marsh) ;  I.  i.  50. 


Objected,  "well  o.,"  well  pro- 
posed;  II.  iv.  43. 

Obloquy,  disgrace;   II.  v.  49. 

Obstacle,  a  vulgar  corruption  of 
"obstinate"  (Walker,  "obsti- 
nate"); V.  iv.  17. 

Olivers  and  Rowlands,  alluding 
to  the  two  most  famous  of 
Charlemagne's  peers;   I.   ii.  30. 

Order;  "take  some  o.,"  make  the 
necessary  dispositions,  take 
measures;   III.  ii.  126. 

Ordnance,  a  small  gun,  cannon; 
I.  iv.  15. 

Otherwhiles,  at  other  times;  I. 
ii.  7. 

Ovkrpeer,  look  down  on;  I.  iv.  11. 

Packing,  "be  p.,"  go  away,  make 
haste;   IV,  i.  46. 

Partakbjr,  confederate;  II.  iv, 
100. 

Parties,  parts,  sides  (Pope, 
"parts");  V.  ii.  12. 

Party,  part,  side;  II.  iv.  32. 

Patronage,  maintain,  make 
good;  III.  i.  48. 

Peeble  (Ff.  1,  2,  "peeble";  Ff. 
3,  4,  "peble") ;  III.  i.  80. 

Peel'd,  shaven  (Ff.  "Piel'd"; 
Grey,  "Pied";  Collier, 
•Pill'd");  I,  iii.  30. 

Peevish,  silly,  childish;  II.  iv.  76. 

Pendragon,  the  father  of  King 
Arthur;  III.  ii.  95. 

Periapts,  amulets;  V.  iii.  2. 

Period,  end;  IV.  ii.  17. 

Peruse,  examine;  IV.  ii.  43. 

Pitch,  height;  II.  iii.  55. 

Pitch  a  fieij),  "from  the  cus- 
tom of  planting  sharp  staves 
in  the  ground  against  the  hos- 
tile horse  came  the  significa- 
tion of  marshalling,  arranging 
in  a  military  sense"  (Schmidt); 
III.  i.  103. 


150 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


Pithless,  without  pith,  strength- 
less;  II.  V.  11. 

pLATtoiiMs,  plans,  schemes;  II.  i. 
77. 

Plav'u,  played  the  part;  I.  vi.  16. 

Post,  hasten,  sjieed;  V.  v.  87. 

PttACTiSAKTs,  fellow  plottcrs 
(Hanmer,  " parlizans")  ;  III.  ii. 
20. 

Practice,  contrive,  plot;  II.  i.  25. 

Phei'euh'd,  presented;  III.  i.  10, 

Presently,  immediately;  I.  ii. 
149. 

Pretend,  mean,  indicate;  (Rowe, 
"Portend");  IV.  i.  54. 

Prevented,  anticipated;  IV.  i.  71. 

Prouitor,  traitor;  I.  iii.  31. 

Proper,  handsomo,  comely;  V.  iii. 
37. 

Purblind,  half  blind;  II.  iv.  21. 

Pursuivants,  foreruimers,  in- 
ferior heralds;  II.  v.  5. 

Puzzel,  hussy;  I.  iv.  107. 

Pyramis,  pyramid  (Rowe,  "pyra- 
mid") ;  I.  vi.  21. 

Quaint,  fine,  pleasant;  IV.  i.  102. 

Quell,  destroy;  I.  i.  163. 

Qui  est  iJ!  (Malone's  emendation 

of  "Che  la"  of  the  Ff.;  Rowe, 

"Qui  va  la?");  111.  ii.  13. 
Quillets,     tricks     in     argument, 

subtleties;  II.   iv.  17. 
Quittance,  requite,  retaliate;  II. 

i.  14. 

Raoing-wood,  raving  mad;  IV. 
vii.   35. 

Rascal-like,  like  lean  and  worth- 
less deer;  IV.  ii.  49. 

Refijix,  let  shine,  reflect  (War- 
burton,  "refect");   V.   iv.   87. 

Regard;  "your  r.";  i.  e.  care  for 
your  own  safetj'^;  IV.  v.  22. 

Reguehdon,  reward;  III.  i.  170. 

Remorse,  pity;  V.  iv.  97. 


Repugn,  oppose;  IV.  i.  94. 

Resolved,  convinced,  satisfied; 
III.   iv.  20. 

Rests,  remains;  II.  i.  75. 

Revolve  on,  be  assured  of;  I.  ii. 
91. 

Rive,  discharge  (Johnson, 
"drive";  Vaughan,  "rain") ;  IV. 
ii.  29. 

Rope;  "a  rope!  a  ropel"  a  cry 
often  taugiit  to  parrots,  in  or- 
der to  turn  a  joke  against  the 
passer-by;  I.  iii.  53. 

Ruin,  fall;  IV.  vii.  10. 

Scruple,  doubtful  perplexity;  V. 

iii.  93. 
Secure,   unsuspecting,  confident; 

II.  i.  11. 

Shot,  marksmen;   I.  iv.  53. 
Sirrah,  an  appellation  addressed 

to  inferior  persons;  III.  i.  62. 
S  M  e  A  R  '  D  ,    stained,    smirched ; 

(Vaughan,  "snared") ;  IV.  vii. 

3. 
Solicit,  rouse,  stir  up.  vide  Note; 

V.  iii.  190. 
Sort,  choose;  II.  iii.  27. 
Spend,  expend,  vent;  I.  ii.  16. 
Spleen,  fire,  impetuosity;  IV.  vL 

13. 
Stand,  withstand,  resist;  I.  i.  123. 
Stern;    "chiefest  stern,"   highest 

place;  I.  i.  177. 
Still,  continually;  I.  iii.  63. 
Stomachs,  resentment;   I.  iii.  90. 
Subscribe,  submit,  yield;   II.   iv. 

44. 
Swart,     swarthy,    dark-complex- 
ioned; I.  ii.  84. 
SwEETfNG,  a  term  of  endearment; 

III.  iii.  21. 

Taint,  tainted;  V.  iii.  183. 
T.M.noTTTEs,    name    given    to    the 
English    in    contempt     (Theo- 


151 


Glossary 


KING  HENRY  VI 


bald's  emendation  of  Ff.,  "Tal- 
bonites";  Hanmer,  "Talbo- 
tines'-')  ;  III.  ii.  ^S. 

Tawny  coats,  coats  of  a  yellow- 
ish dark  color,  the  usual  livery 
of  ecclesiastical  atlendants;  I. 
iii.  47. 

Temper,  quality,  hardness;  II.  iv. 
13. 

Tendering,  having  care  for  (Tyr- 
'^  whitt,  "Tending":  Beckett, 
"Fendhiff");  IV.  vii.  10. 

Timeless,  untimely;   V.  iv.  5. 

To,  compared  tc,  to  equal;  III. 
ii.  25. 

Toj-viyris,  the  Queen  of  the  Mas- 
sagetoe,  by  whom  Cyrus  was 
slain;  II.  iii.  6. 

Toy,  trifle;   IV.  i.  145. 

Traffic,  transaction;  Vo  iii.   164. 

Train'd,  lured;  II.  iii.  35. 

Triumph,  tournament;  V.  v.  31. 

Unable,  weak,  impotent;  IV.  v. 
4. 

Unaccustom'd,  unusual,  extraor- 
dinary; III.  i.  93. 

Unavoided,  inevitable;  IV.  v.  8. 

Unawares,  by  surprise;  III.  ii. 
39. 

Unfallible,  infallible,  certain; 
(Rowe,  "infallible") ;  I.  ii.  59. 

Unkind,  unnatural;  IV.  i.  193. 

Unready,  undressed;  II.  i.  39. 


Vantage,  advantage,  "for  v.,"  to 
take  your  time;  IV.  v.  28. 

Vaward,  vanguard;  Ff.,  "Vau- 
ward";  Theobald  conj.,  "rere- 
ward"  (but  probably  "vaward" 
Z3:"in  the  front  line  of  his  own 
troop");  I.  i.  132. 

Walloon,  a  native  of  the  border- 
country  between  the  Nether- 
lands and  France;  (Ff.  1,  2, 
"Wallon")  ;  I.  i.  131 

Warrantize,  surety;  I.  iii.  13. 

Washford,  an  old  name  of  Wex- 
ford, in  Ireland;  IV.  vii.  f3. 

Weening,  deeming,  thinking;  II. 
V.  88. 

Where,  whereas;  (Pope, 
"While")  ;  V.  V.  47. 

Will'd,  commanded;  I.  iii.  10. 

Winchester  goose,  a  cant  term 
for  a  swelling  in  the  groin,  the 
result  of  disease;  I.  iii.  53. 

Witting,  knowing;  II.  v.  16. 

Wont,  are  wont,  accustomed; 
(Ff.,  "Went";  V  a  u  g  h  a  n  , 
"Won";  Hanmer,  "Watch") ;  I. 
iv.  10. 

Wooden;  "a  w.  thing,"  "an  awk- 
ward business,  not  likely  to 
succeed"  (Steevens) ;  V.  iii.  89. 

Worthless,  imworthy;  IV.  iv.  21. 

Wot,  know;  IV.  vi.  32. 

Writhled,   wrinkled;   II.   iii.   23. 


Vail,  lower,  let   fall    (Ff.   1,   2,      Yield,  admit;  II.  iv.  42. 
"vale")  ;  V.  iii.  25. 


252 


STUDY  QUESTIONS 


GENERAL 

1.  Give  an  outline  of  the  movements  of  the  successive 
acts,  and  the  relation  of  their  respective  scenes  to  each 
other,  and  to  the  general  action  of  the  whole  of  Part  I  of 
the  drama. 

2.  What  gives  rise  to  the  contention  as  to  Shakespeare's 
sole  authorship  of  this  play? 

3.  The  influence  or  the  joint  work  of  what  other  writers 
is  apparent  in  this  play  particularly'? 

4.  What  are  some  main  evidences  either  of  collaboration  ; 
of  later  revisals  of  an  original  text  (his  own  or  another's) ; 
or  merely  of  manifestation  of  Shakespeare's  period  of  pu- 
pilage as  compared  with  his  maturer  works? 

5.  What  is  Shakespeare's  attitude  towards  Henry  VI 
as  developed  in  the  portrayal  of  his  character  throughout 
the  play? 

6.  Was  the  Bishop  of  Winchester's  policy  a  disinter- 
ested or  a  selfish  one?     Who  was  his  powerful  friend? 

7.  In  what  particulars  does  Shakespeare's  conception  of 
Joan  of  Arc  offend  most  critics?  In  what  respects  is  it  in 
keeping  with  the  observation  of  such  phenomena  of  re- 
ligious enthusiasm  as  she  represents?  What  are  its  fine 
points  ? 

8.  How  does  Shakespeare  show  the  character  of  Talbot? 
What  passage  in  Act  II  somewhat  humorously  sets  forth 
the  wide  terror  his  name  provoked?  What  other  pas- 
sages ? 

9.  Is  Sir  John  Fastolfe  accredited  in  history  with  being 
so  great  a  coward  as  he  is  accused  of  being  in  the  play? 

\r,3 


study  Questions  THE   FIRST   PART   OF 

r 

10.  Does  Talbot  seem  to  carry  special  force  as  a  type 
of  the  honest  English  feeling? 

11.  Note  in  what  passages  of  feeling  the  flow  of  verse 
becomes,  as  it  were,  spontaneously  rhapsodic.  Is  this  the 
case  in  similar  passages  in  all  Shakespeare's  blank  verse.'* 
Has  it  special  kinship  with  any  characteristics  of  Mar- 
lowe ? 

ACT    I 

12.  In  what  way  is  the  colloquy  at  the  funeral  of  Henry 
V  dramatically  significant.^ 

13.  To  what  general  presage  in  the  dramatic  develop- 
ment does  the  threat  of  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  apper- 
tain .'' 

14.  To  what  old  notion  does  line  27,  scene  i,  refer?  By 
what  political  situation  is  it  called  up? 

15.  What  custom  of  scene  setting  probably  suggested 
the  figure  used  by  Bedford  in  the  opening  line? 

16.  How  was  Henry  Beaufort  related  officially  and  by 
birth  to  the  political  situation? 

17.  Why  did  the  death  of  Henry  V  release  Winchester 
for  the  pursuit  of  his  persona,  ambitions? 

18.  To  what  attitude  of  Winchester  in  the  relation  to 
the  two  successive  kings  does  Gloucester  refer  in  scene  i, 
lines  33-36? 

19.  What  is  the  significant  dramatic  force  of  Bedford's 
utterances  in  scene  i,  lines  48-51,  and  his  following  invoca- 
tion to  Henr}'  V,  lines  52-56? 

20.  What  condition  is  set  forth  as  the  root  of  England's 
dangerous  weakness  in  the  political  situation  between  her- 
self and  France  in  scene  i,  lines  69-81,  and  also  in  Reig- 
nier's  comments,  scene  ii,  line  17? 

21.  What  is  the  first  impression  of  La  Pucelle  from 
a  point  of  dramatic  characterization? 

22.  Is  it  evident  that  Shakespeare  intends  the  Dauphin 
to  seem  personally  enamored  of  Joan  in  addition  to  ad- 
miring her  valorous  intent? 

23.  What  is  shown  of  the  ambitions  and  characters  of 

154 


KING   HENRY   VI  Study  Questions 

Winchester  and  Gloucester  in  the  quarrel  between  them  in 
scene  iii?     What  is  the  historical  account  of  the  broil? 

24.  To  whose  retainers  does  the  expression  "tawny 
coats"  refer?  Where  does  it  occur  and  in  the  course  of 
what  quarrel? 

25.  What  is  the  prevailing  feeling  of  Talbot's  lines 
throughout  scene  v?  Does  it  make  the  scene  dramatically 
striking  as  setting  the  key  of  the  English  view  of  Joan  la 
Pucelle? 

ACT   n 

26.  Is  the  retaking  of  Orleans  after  Salisbury's  death 
historically  true  or  an  invention  for  dramatic  purposes? 

27.  Is  the  scene  between  the  Countess  d'  Auvergne 
and  Talbot  an  illuminating  one  to  manifest  the  force  of  his 
personal  power  and  place  in  the  dramatic  unfoldmcnt  and 
for  its  enrichment  or  is  it  of  merely  incidental  moment — 
a  bit  of  dramatic  color? 

28.  In  what  relations,  respectively,  to  the  political  situa- 
tion and  to  each  other  did  the  circumstances  of  birth  and 
successive  office  place  Richard  Plantagenet  and  John  Beau- 
fort? 

29.  How  does  the  noble  restraint  in  Warwick's  cham- 
pionship of  Plantagenet  in  scene  iv  contrast  with  the 
manner  of  speech  of  Somerset  and  his  sympathizers  ?  Does 
it  seem  intended  as  well  to  indicate  the  nature  of  War- 
wick's personal  assurance  of  power  throughout  all  the  sub- 
sequent action? 

30.  What  are  striking  characteristics  of  the  treatment 
of  scene  iv,  dramatically  and  poetically? 

31.  In  what  way  is  the  scene  of  the  death  of  Mortimer 
historically  incon'oct?     What  probably  caused  the  error? 

32.  In  what  light  does  the  poet  present  the  personal 
character  of  Richard  Plantagenet  through  his  speech  and 
action  in  scenes  iv  and  v? 

33.  Note  the  elegiac  and  gentle  flow  of  the  lines  of 
scene  v,  yet  their  conveyance  of  INIortimer's  inspiration  to 
Plantagenet.     What  dramatic  value  has  this  as  following 

1.55 


study  Questions  THE   FIRST   PART   OF 

I 

the  poetic  but  vigorous-manner  of  scene  iv?  How  do  these 
two  manners,  as  well  as  the  substance  of  these  scenes,  indi- 
cate the  trend  of  events  and  the  conflicting  tides  of  feeling 
that  are  carrying  them  on  ? 

ACT    III 

34.  What  special  element  of  dramatic  force  does  the 
opening  scene  of  this  act  convey? 

35.  What  special  speech  in  scene  i  is  definitely  pro- 
phetic ? 

36.  What  three  events  actually  separated  by  considerable 
intervals  does  the  poet  combine  in  scene  i? 

37.  To  what  previous  affair  does  line  23  in  scene  i  refer? 

38.  What  action  taken  unforcseeingly  by  Henry — in 
this  act — is  pregnant  of  his  own  future  ill  fate? 

39.  What  does  Joan  mean  to  imply  by  her  sarcastic 
figure  about  darnel  in  the  com  in  scene  ii? 

40.  Is  it  historically  true  that  Bedford  died  at  the  scene 
of  the  skiiTnish  before  Rouen?  Is  the  whole  scene  a  dra- 
matic fiction?  Has  it  some  basis  in  actual  incidents  in  the 
war  in  France?  What  is  its  value  in  picturesqueness  and 
action? 

41.  How  has  Shakespeare  used  the  true  succession  of 
historical  events  in  this  act  to  suit  his  purposes  of  dramatic 
effect? 

42.  What  passage  in  scene  iv  carries  on  and  emphasizes 
the  growing  feud  of  York  and  Lancaster? 

43.  Does  the  scene  carrying  Burgundy's  reversion  to  the 
French  cause  seem  too  abrupt  in  its  important  development 
to  give  the  effect  of  even  ordinary  natural  deliberation? 
Does  Joan's  sarcastic  comment  (line  85)  appear  too  weak 
a  remedy  for  this  dramatic  ineffectiveness? 

ACT    IV 

44.  In  the  English  chronicles  was  more  made  of  the 
honor  accorded  in  Paris  to  Henry's  coronation  there  than 
was  actually  understood  in  France? 

156 


KING   HENRY   VI  study  Questions 

I 

45.  In  the  king's  final  recommendation  to  the  Lords  of 
Somerset  and  York  does  the  poet  seem  to  put  a  certain 
sagacity  with  regard  to  the  poHtical  situation  and  not 
nicrch^  to  present  an  attitude  of  timidity  on  the  king's 
part  ? 

46.  Of  what  formal  dramatic  method  of  carrying  the 
narrative  and  its  prophecies  does  Exeter  take  the  place  in 
scene  i,  as  previously?  ' 

47.  What  powerful  dramatic  effect  is  carried  in  scene 
II? — especially  with  relation  to  the  new  important  turn  of 
events?  How  do  the  lines  of  Talbot  and  the  French  gen- 
eral contrast? 

48.  To  what  historical  fact  in  the  jealous  policy  of 
Somerset  does  York  allude  in  scene  iii,  line  46? 

49.  What  passage  in  scene  iii  sets  forth  with  fine  in- 
dignation the  general  realization  of  the  cause  of  delay  in 
succoring  Talbot  and  lays  it  at  Somerset's  door? 

50.  What  is  the  striking  element  of  the  scenes  between 
young  Talbot  and  his  father?  also  of  the  scene  of  Talbot's 
death? 

51.  What  is  the  main  object  of  the  poet  apparently  in 
referring  the  loss  of  the  French  provinces  so  pointedly  to 
the  rivalries  and  enmities  among  the  English  nobility? 

ACT    V 

52.  Referring  to  Exeter's  exclamation  in  lines  28  and 
29  of  scene  i,  is  the  disregard  of  actual  inters'als  of  his- 
toric time  frequently  essential  to  the  unity  of  a  dramatic 
presentation  ? 

53.  What  historical  incidents  are  connected  with  the 
English  king's  negotiations  of  marriage  with  the  Earl  of 
Armagnac's  daughter? 

54.  What  is  tlie  dramatic  effect  of  the  silence  of  the 
fiends  in  scene  iii? 

55.  Does  the  representation  of  Joan  of  Arc  appear  in- 
consistent as  comparing  its  latter  end  and  its  beginning? 

56.  What  is  the  accepted  historical  version  of  the  case 
of  Joan  of  Arc  in  her  final  tragedy  ? 

157 


study  Questions  KING   HENRY   VI 

I 

57.  How  is  Suffolk's  scene  with  Margaret  (scene  iii) 
significant  of  the  power  of  the  lords  over  young  Henry? 
What  is  the  characteristic  dramatic  element  of  this  scene, 
as  compared  with  the  grim  tenor  of  those  in  the  midst  of 
which  it  is? 

58.  What  quaint  passage  in  Holinshed's  Chronicles  sets 
forth  the  estate  of  King  Reignier  at  the  time  of  his  daugh- 
ter's betrothal  to  King  Henry? 

59.  What  does  the  poet  make  the  secret  underlying  callsie 
of  Suffolk's  effort  to  bring  about  the  betrothal  of  Mar- 
garet of  Anjou  and  Henry?  What  political  advantage 
does  Suffolk  profess  openly  that  he  intends  it  to  compass? 


158 


THE  SECOND  PART  OF 
KING  HENRY  VI 


All  the  unsigned  footnotes  in  this  volume  are  by  the 
writer  of  the  article  to  which  they  are  appended.  The  in- 
terpretation of  the  initials  signed  to  the  others  is:  I.  G. 
=  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. ;  H.  N.  H.=  Henry  Norman 
Hudson,  A.M. ;  C.  H.  H.=  C.  H.  Herford,  Litt.D. 


INTRODUCTION 

By  Henry  Norman  Hudson,  A.M. 

The  Second  Part  of  Henry  the  Sixth  was  never  issued, 
that  we  know  of,  with  that  title,  or  in  its  present  state,  till 
in  the  folio  of  1623,  where  it  is  printed  with  great  clear- 
ness and  accuracy,  but  without  any  marking  of  the  acts 
and  scenes.  The  play,  however,  is  but  an  enlargement  of 
one  that  was  entered  at  the  Stationers',  ]\Iarch  12,  1594;, 
and  published  the  same  year  with  a  title-page  reading  as 
follows:  "The  First  Part  of  the  Contention  betwixt  the 
two  famous  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster ;  with  the  death 
of  the  good  Duke  Humphrey ;  and  the  banishment  and 
death  of  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  ;  and  the  tragical  end  of  the 
proud  Cardinal  of  Winchester:  With  the  notable  rebellion 
of  Jack  Cade;  and  the  Duke  of  York's  first  claim  unto  the 
crown.  London :  Printed  by  Thomas  Creede  for  Thomas 
Millington  :  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop  under  St.  Peter's 
Church  in  Cornwall.      1594." 

In  regard  to  The  Third  Part  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  the 

circumstances  were  so  ncarl}-  the  same  as  to  render  it  on 

many  accounts  advisable  to  speak  of  them  both  together. 

This,  also,  is  but  an  enlargement  of  an  older  play,  which 

was  originally  published  by  itself,  the  title-page  reading 

thus:     "The  True  Tragedy  of  Richard  Duke   of  York, 

and  the  death  of  the  good  King  Henry  the   Sixth ;  with 

the  whole  contention   between  the  two   Houses   Lancaster 

and  York:  As   it   was   sundry   times   acted   by   the   Right 

Honourable  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  his  Servants.      Printed 

at  London  by  P.  S.  for  Thomas  ]Millington,  and  are  to  be 

sold   at   his   shop   under   St.    Peter's   Church   in    Cornwall. 

1595."     In   1600  both  plays  were  reissued,  the  text,  the 

"vii 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

titles,  and  the  publisher,  being  all  the  same  as  in  the 
former.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  in  these  two  editions  no 
author's  name  was  given.  A  third  issue  of  both  plays 
was  put  forth  by  Thomas  Pavier  in  1619,  on  the  title-page 
of  which  we  have  the  words, — "Newly  corrected  and  en- 
larged :  By  William  Shakespeare,  Gent."  As  Pavier's  text 
was  merely  a  reprint  of  Millington's,  the  words,  "newly 
corrected  and  enlarged,"  would  seem  to  infer  that  the  plays 
were  generally  known  or  supposed  to  have  been  revised  by 
the  author,  and  that  the  publisher  committed  this  piece 
of  fraud,  in  order  that  his  edition  might  be  thought  to 
have  the  advantage  of  such  revisal.  It  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  either  the  withholding  of  the  name  in  the  first 
two  editions,  or  the  giving  of  it  in  the  third,  proves  any 
thing  as  to  the  real  authorship  one  way  or  the  other;  for 
we  have  seen  that  the  earlier  editions  of  the  Poet's  plays 
were  often  anonymous,  and  that  his  name  was  not  seldom 
pretended  in  case  of  plays  that  he  had  no  hand  in  writ- 
ing. The  First  Part  of  the  Contention,  and  The  True 
Tragedy  of  Richard  Duke  of  York,  as  they  were  called 
in  the  old  quartos,  have  been  lately  set  forth  with  great 
care  and  accuracy  by  Mr.  Knight,  in  the  form  of  supple- 
ments, respectively,  to  the  same  plays  in  their  revised  and 
finished  state.  As  we  believe  Shakespeare  to  have  been  the 
author  of  the  plays  in  their  original  form,  we  shall,  for 
convenience,  speak  of  them  henceforth  as  the  quarto-edi- 
tions of  what  appeared  in  the  folio  of  1623  as  the  Second 
and  Third  Farts  of  Henry  the  Sixth. 

In  the  plays,  then,  thus  entitled  in  the  folio,  with  a  few 
trifling  exceptions  the  entire  plan,  arrangement,  concep- 
tion, character,  and  more  than  half  the  language  word  for 
word,  are  all  the  same  as  in  the  corresponding  quartos. 
Malone  figured  out  that  the  two  plays,  in  their  present 
state,  contain  6,043  lines;  and  that  of  these  1,899,  or 
nearly  one-third,  were  original  in  the  folio,  2,373,  some- 
thing more  than  a  third,  were  altered  from  the  quarto,  and 
1,771,  which  is  somewhat  less  than  a  third,  were  the  same 

in  both.     And  he  took  the  pains  to  mark  the  lines  pecul- 

viii' 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

iar  to  the  folio  with  asterisks,  and  those  altered  from 
the  quarto,  with  inverted  coninias;  leavintr  those  common 
to  both  unmarked.  In  several  editions,  the  Chiswick  being 
one,  his  marking,  though  not  always  correct,  has  been  re- 
peated. In  the  altered  lines,  however,  a  large  part,  cer- 
tainly not  less  than  half,  of  the  alterations  are  very  slight, 
often  involving  nothing  more  than  the  change  of  an  epi- 
thet, or  the  transposition  of  a  word,  and  nowise  affecting 
the  sense.  In  many  cases,  moreover,  the  folio  presents  a 
judicious  elaboration  and  expansion  of  old  thoughts,  with 
little  or  no  addition  of  new  ones;  so  that  the  diff'erence 
properly  regards  but  the  execution,  and  scarce  touches  the 
conception  of  the  work.  In  the  Second  Part,  again,  the 
alterations  and  additions  are  in  the  main  diff'used  pretty 
equally  through  the  whole  play ;  while  in  the  Third  Fart 
the  additions  come  much  more  in  large  masses,  some  en- 
tire scenes  being  mostly  new  in  the  folio,  and  others  nearly 
the  same  as  in  the  quarto.  For  example,  in  Act  i.  of  the 
Third  Part,  out  of  581  lines  in  all,  there  are  but  141  al- 
tered from  the  quarto,  and  104?  original  in  the  folio,  thus 
leaving  336  the  same  in  both.  And  in  the  fourth  scene 
of  that  Act  the  proportion  of  altered  and  added  lines  is 
considerably  less,  being  just  one-fourth  of  the  whole.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  the  sixth  scene  of  Act  iv.  the  propor- 
tion is  still  more  the  other  way,  there  being  of  102  lines 
only  14  either  taken  or  altered  from  the  quarto.  It  will 
hardly  be  questioned  that  the  best  scenes, — the  most  char- 
acteristic, the  most  Shakespearian, — in  the  play,  are  the 
fourth  in  Act  i.,  and  the  sixth  in  Act  v. ;  and  these,  as 
may  be  seen  by  our  notes,  are  the  very  scenes  that  w^ere 
least  improved  or  changed  in  the  folio.  Perhaps  it  should 
be  remarked,  further,  that  nearly  all  the  matter  of  the 
quartos  is  retained  in  the  folio,  the  rejections  being  very 
few  and  small,  so  that  the  plays  are  lengthened  just  about 
the  amount  of  the  additions  made.  All  together,  there- 
fore, we  may  safely  affirm  that  of  the  two  plays  the  whole 
conception  and  more  than  half  the  execution  arc  precisely 

the  same  in  the  quarto  and  folio  editions.     Finally,  be  it 

ix 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

observed,  that  in  case  of  these  two  plays  we  have  not 
nearly  so  great  a  difference,  either  of  quantity  or  of  qual- 
ity, between  the  quartos  and  the  folio,  as  in  case  of  The 
Merry  Wiv^es  of  Windsor  and  King  Henry  V. 

Thus  far  we  have  gone  vipon  the  supposition,  which,  to 
say  the  least,  is  not  improbable,  that  the  plays  in  hand 
were  originally  written  as  they  stand  in  the  quartos,  and 
were  afterwards  rewritten  by  the  same  hand,  which  ac- 
counts naturally  enough  for  all  the  differences  of  the 
quarto  and  folio  editions ;  and  that  the  first  publication  was 
probably  surreptitious,  and  perhaps  made  from  the  original 
draughts  or  sketches,  after  these  were  superseded  on  the 
stage  by  the  revised  and  finished  copies.  At  all  events, 
that  the  quartos  were  in  this  case  unauthorized  may  be 
reasonably  presumed,  from  the  fact  that  the  only  other 
publishing  of  Shakespeare's  work  by  Millington  was  un- 
questionably fraudulent.  Dr.  Johnson,  hov/ever,  thinks 
there  is  no  reason  for  supposing  them  to  have  been  printed 
from  the  first  draughts  of  Shakespeare ;  but  that  they 
were  "copies  taken  by  some  auditor,  who  wrote  down  dur- 
ing the  representation  wh.at  the  time  would  permit ;  then, 
perhaps,  filled  up  some  of  his  omissions  at  a  second  or 
third  hearing,  and,  when  he  had  by  this  method  formed 
something  like  a  play,  sent  it  to  the  printer."  Perhaps  it 
will  be  deemed  a  sufficient  answer  to  this,  that  there  are 
some  passages  in  the  quartos,  which  are  entirely  wanting 
in  the  folio ;  and  that  there  are  many  passages  of  blank- 
verse^  and  some  of  them  quite  lengthy,  standing  exactly 
the  same  in  both :  for  it  is  clear  that  a  reporter,  as  in 
the  case  supposed,  however  much  he  might  omit,  would  not 
be  very  likely  to  add ;  and  that  so  correct  an  arrangement 
of  blank-verse  could  not  well  be  attained  by  the  ear  alone. 

Which  brings  us  to  the  question,  whether  these  plays  in 
their  original  form  vrere  written  by  Shakespeare.  Malone, 
as  was  seen  in  our  preceding  Introduction,  maintains,  at 
great  expense  of  labor  and  learning,  that  neither  the  First 
Part,  nor  the  quartos  of  the  Second  and  Third  Parts  were 
by  Shakespeare ;  and,  moreover,  that  the  originals  of  the 

X 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

Second  and  Third  were  not  by  the  same  author  as  the  First. 
Thus  he  liokls  that  the  three  plays,  as  we  have  them,  were 
the  work  of  three  several  authors,  Shakespeare  being  re- 
sponsible only  for  the  above-mentioned  alterations  and  ad- 
ditions; and  that,  on  the  strength  of  these,  Heminge  and 
Condell  took  the  strange  liberty  of  including  all  three  of 
the  plays  in  their  edition,  thus  setting  them  forth  to  the 
world  as  Shakespeare's  genuine  productions,  the  Second 
and  Third,  becnuse  he  had  somewjiat  enlarged  and  im- 
proved them,  and  tlie  First,  as  being  a  "necessary  introduc- 
tion" to  the  other  two. 

So  far  as  regards  the  First  Part,  Malone's  position  and 
arguments  were  probably  discussed  enough  in  our  Intro- 
duction to  that  play.  His  only  reason,  apparently,  for 
supposing  three  several  authors  is  precisely  the  same  as 
one  of  his  main  reasons  for  supposing  two.  The  argu- 
ment is  so  clear,  brief,  and  conclusive,  that  we  can  well 
afford  room  to  state  it,  even  though  the  statement  involve 
something  of  repetition.  In  the  First  Part,  Act  iii.  sc.  4, 
King  Henr}^  says, — "I  do  remember  how  my  father  said." 
But  in  one  of  the  added  lines  of  the  Second  Part,  Act  iv. 
sc.  9,  the  same  Henry  says, — "But  I  was  made  a  king  at 
nine  months  old."  Now,  as  Shakespeare  undoubtedly 
wrote  the  additions  to  the  Second  Part,  it  is  clear  that  he 
knew  the  king  was  not  of  an  age,  at  his  father's  death,  to 
remember  any  thing  said  by  him:  which  concludes  at  once 
that  Shakespeare  could  not  have  written  the  First  Part. 
Again ;  in  one  of  the  original  lines  of  the  Third  Part,  Act 
i.  sc.  1,  the  king  says, — "When  I  was  crown'd  I  was  but 
nine  months  old:"  from  which  it  comes  equally  clear  and 
conclusive,  that  the  originals  of  the  Second  and  Third 
Parts  could  not  have  been  written  by  the  author  of  the 
First.  Thus  far,  however,  we  have  but  two  authors  proved 
in  the  three  plays ;  it  not  appearing  but  that  Shakespeare 
may  have  written  both  the  originals  and  the  additions  of  the 
Second  and  Third  Parts.  But  the  same  principle,  in  an- 
other instance,  will  soon  nick  him  out  of  all  but  those  addi- 
tions.    In  an  original  passage  of  the  Third  Part,  Act  iii, 

xi 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

sc.  2,  King  Edward,  speaking  of  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Grey, 
says  to  Clarence  and  Gloster: 

"This  lady's  husband  liere,  Sir  Richard  Grey, 
At  the  battle  of  St.  Albans  did  lose  his  life: 
His  lands  then  were  seiz'd  on  by  the  conqueror. 
Her  suit  is  now  to  repossess  those  lands; 
And  silh  in  quarrel  of  the  house  of  York 
The  noble  gentleman  did  lose  his  life, 
In  honor  we  cannot  deny  her  suit." 

In  King  Richard  III,  Act  i.  sc.  3,  Gloster  says  to  the  same 
Elizabeth : 

"In  all  which  time,  t/ou  and  your  husband  Grey 
Were  factious  for  the  house  of  Lancaster; — 
And,  Rivers,  so  were  you: — was  not  your  husband 
In  Margaret's  battle  at  St.  Albans  slain?" 

Now,  as  nobody  doubts  that  Shakespeare  was  the  author  of 
King  Richard  III,  it  follows  clearly  and  conclusively  that 
he  could  not  have  written  the  originals  of  the  plays  in 
question.  Thus  we  have  three  several  authors  fully  proved 
in  case  of  Henry  VI ;  one  for  the  First  Part,  another  for 
the  originals,  and  a  third  for  the  additions,  of  the  Second 
and  Third. 

We  have  been  thus  particular  in  stating  this  argument, 
because  it  is  by  far  the  strongest  that  has  been  alleged  on 
that  side  from  the  internal  evidence.  And  Malone  him- 
self lays  great  stress  upon  it:  referring  to  such  instances 
as  we  have  quoted,  he  says, — "Passages,  discordant  in  mat- 
ters of  fact  from  his  other  plays  are  proved  by  this  dis- 
cordancy not  to  have  been  composed  by  him ;  and  these 
discordant  passages,  being  found  in  the  original  quarto 
plays,  prove  that  those  pieces  were  composed  by  another 
writer."  Perhaps  enough  was  said  by  way  of  answer  to 
this  point  in  our  Introduction  to  the  First  Part.  Two  dis- 
crepancies of  the  same  kind  were  there  adduced,  from 
which,  however,  nobody  thinks  of  inferring  any  such  di- 
versity of  authorship.      It  will  not  take  long  to  add  two 

more.     In  The  First  Part  of  Henry  IV,  Act  i.  sc.  3,  the 

xii 


KING   HENRY   VI  introduction 

king  speaks  of  "the  foolish  IVIortimer"  as  Hotspur's 
"brother-in-law,"  and  a  little  after  in  the  same  scenes  Hot- 
spur boils  over  thus: 

"And  when  I  urg'd  the  ransom  once  again 
Of  my  wife's  brother,  then  his  cheek  look'd  pale, 
And  on  my  face  he  turn'd  an  eye  of  death. 
Trembling  even  at  the  name  of  Mortimer." 

AncI  again,  the  SaifiG  speaker:  *'Did  Xing  Richara,  then, 
proclaim  my  brother  Edmund  Mortimer  heir  to  the  crown?" 
In  Act  iii.  sc.  1,  however,  of  the  same  play,  we  have  Morti- 
mer referring  thus  to  Hotspur's  wife:  "Good  father,  tell 
her,  that  she  and  my  aunt  Percy  shall  follow  in  your  con- 
duct speedily."  Again;  in  the  Third  Part  of  Henry  F, 
Act  i.  sc.  1,  the  king  says  to  York, — 

"What  title  hast  thou,  traitor,  to  the  crown? 
Thy  father  was,  as  thou  art,  duke  of  York;" 

as  if  York's  title  had  come  to  him  by  inheritance.  And 
yet,  a  few  lines  before,  Exeter,  speaking  of  the  present 
king  to  York,  says, — "He  made  thee  duke  of  York ;"  as 
if  the  title  had  been  conferred  on  him  by  express  grant 
from  the  king,  which  was  indeed  the  case.  It  will  be 
worth  the  while  to  add,  that  both  of  these  passages  are 
in  the  original  form  of  the  Third  Part.  And  as  the  mat- 
ter is  rightly  set  forth  in  the  First  Part,  one  of  the  pas- 
sages might  be  quoted  to  prove  that  the  two  plays  were, 
and  the  other,  that  they  were  not,  by  the  same  author. 
Divers  other  instances  more  or  less  in  point  might  easily 
be  adduced ;  and  indeed  there  are  so  many  discrepancies  of 
this  kind  in  Shakespeare's  undoubted  plays,  that  one  may 
well  be  surprised  to  find  an  editor  urging  them  for  such  a 
purpose.  Besides,  even  according  to  Malone's  showing, 
one  of  the  passages  thus  referred  to,  that  touching  the 
Lady  Elizabeth,  was  considerably  altered  by  Shakespeare. 
And  if  the  Poet  had  been  so  careful  to  avoid  such  discrep- 
ancies, as  IMalone's  argument  supposes,  it  does  not  well  ap- 
pear why  in  altering  the  verse  he  did  not  correct  the  facts. 

xiii 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Finally,  one  more  instance  of  similar  discrepancy  may  as 
well  be  referred  to,  as,  on  Malone's  principle,  it  will  prove 
that  the  Second  and  Third  Parts  in  the  quarto  form  must 
have  been  by  different  authors ;  so  that  we  shall  have  four 
authors  in  the  case,  one  for  each  of  the  three  parts  in  their 
original  state,  and  a  fourth  for  the  latter  two  in  so  far  as 
the  folio  differs  from  the  quartos. 

Of  the  other  points  in  Malone's  argument  from  the  in- 
ternal evidence,  the  only  ones  wortli  fiOfieing  may  be 
quickly  despatched,  as  they  call  for  little  if  any  thing  more 
than  a  flat  denial.  The  first  is,  that  in  his  undoubted  plays 
we  often  find  Shakespeare  reproducing  the  same  thoughts 
in  other,  yet  resembling,  forms  of  expression ;  and  that 
the  quarto  copies  of  the  Second  and  Third  Parts  have  not 
the  usual  number  of  thoughts  and  expressions  resembling 
those  to  be  met  with  in  his  other  pla^^s,  while  the  folio 
additions  are  proportionably  much  more  frequent  in  such 
resemblances.  Now,  to  affirm  the  reverse  of  this,  were 
probably  nearer  the  truth.  As  Malone's  method  of  rea- 
soning was  so  highly  figurative,  Knight  has  here  brought 
the  poAver  of  figures  to  bear,  and  shown  that  in  the  original 
fonn  of  the  two  plays  there  are  no  less  than  fourteen  such 
resemblances;  which  is  a  greater  number,  proportionably, 
than  it  will  be  easy  to  find  in  the  additions. 

The  second  of  the  points  in  question  is,  that  the  Shake- 
spearian peculiarities  of  thought  and  speech  occur  more 
frequently  in  the  added  portions.  Which,  even  if  it  were 
true,  would  prove  nothing  to  the  purpose,  the  additions 
having  of  course  been  written  some  time  after  the  originals, 
and  when  the  author  had  grown  and  ripened  more  out  of 
the  common  into  his  individual  style  of  thought  and  speech. 
Moreover,  this  argument  would  make  with  at  least  equal 
force  that  Shakespeare  did  not,  though  no  one  questions 
that  he  did,  write  the  originals  of  his  Hamlet  and  Romeo 
and  Juliet ;  it  being  certain  that  what  was  afterwards  added 
to  those  plays  in  the  revisal  is  proportionably  much  richer 
in    Shakespearian    peculiarity.     But,    in    the    plays    under 

consideration,  this  is  not  true,  as  any  one  that  has  an  eye 

xiv 


KING    HENRY    VI  Introduction 

for  such  things  may  be  amply  certified  by  the  specimens 
given  in  our  notes.  The  cause  of  the  matter's  being  other- 
wise in  this  case  may  be,  that  the  revising  took  place  at  a 
less  interval  from  the  first  writing,  before  the  author's 
style  had  undergone  much  change,  and  when  his  power  was 
not  enough  greater  to  make  up  for  the  less  inspiration  that 
would  naturally  attend  a  revisal. 

Nor  is  Malone  a  whit  stronger  in  his  arguing  of  the 
question  from  external  evidence.  In  the  first  place,  he 
urges  the  fact  that  Shakespeare's  name  Avas  not  mentioned 
in  the  entry  of  the  Second  Fart  at  the  Stationers',  jNIarch 
12,  1594,  nor  in  the  title-pages  of  the  first  two  editions. 
But  this,  as  we  have  repeatedly'  seen,  was  a  common  prac- 
tice. For  example,  King  Richard  II  was  entci'ed  at  the 
Stationers',  August  29,  1597,  and  published  the  same  year; 
The  First  Fart  of  Henry  IV  was  entered,  February  25, 
1598,  and  published  that  year;  also.  King  Richard  III 
was  entered,  October  20,  1597,  and  published  that  3'ear ; 
in  every  one  of  which  cases  there  was  no  mention  of  the 
author's  name.  Again,  he  alleges  the  circumstance  that  in 
the  title  of  the  quarto  the  Third  Fart  is  said  to  have  been 
acted  by  the  earl  of  Pembroke's  servants,  a  company  to 
which  Shakespeare  never  belonged.  Which  point  wc  may 
safely  leave  where  it  was  left  in  our  Introduction  to  the 
First  Fart.  Another  circumstance  urged  is,  that  in  the 
title-page  of  Pavier's  quarto  the  plays  are  said  to  have 
been  "newly  corrected  and  enlarged  by  William  Shake- 
speare," as  if  this  inferred  that  Shakespeare  did  not  write 
them ;  whereas  the  "By  William  Shakespeare"  evidently  re- 
fers no  less  to  the  writing  than  to  the  correcting  and  en- 
larging. 

There  is,  however,  one  piece  of  external  evidence  which 
nnist  be  allowed  to  carry  some  weight.  We  have  seen  that 
Malone's  argument  from  the  discrepancies  of  statement 
would,  if  admitted,  necessarily  conclude  four  authors  in 
the  case,  one  for  each  of  the  three  parts  as  first  written, 
and  a  fourth  for  the  additions  of  the  folio.  And  in  fact 
Malone  himself  supposes  four,  and  the  fortlicoming  item 
Silk- Ml)  XV 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

of  external  evidence,  so  far  as  it  may  hold  good,  will  infer 
as  many,  and  probably  one  to  boot.  It  is  a  passage  from 
Greene's  Groatsurorth  of  Wit:  "Yes,  trust  them  not;  for 
there  is  an  upstart  crow  beautified  with  our  feathers,  that, 
with  his  tiger's  heart  wrapp'd  in  a  player's  hide,  supposes 
he  is  as  well  able  to  bombast  out  a  blank-verse  as  the 
best  of  you,  and,  being  an  absolute  Johannes-fac-totum, 
is  in  his  own  conceit  the  only  Shake-scene  in  a  country." 
Greene  died  September  3,  1592,  and  this  was  a  part  of  his 
death  bed  repentance.  The  tract  was  addressed  to  his 
"quondam  acquaintance,"  Marlowe,  Lodge,  and  Peele,  who 
may  all  be  set  down  as  included  in  the  words,  "beautified 
with  our  feathers :"  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  "upstart 
crow"  meant  Shakespeare;  and  "his  tiger's  heart  wrapp'd 
in  a  player's  hide"  is  a  parody  of  an  original  line  in  The 
Third  Part  of  Henry  VI,  Act.  i.  sc.  4:  'O  tiger's  heart, 
wrapp'd  in  woman's  hide !"  thus  ascertaining  at  least  that 
that  play,  as  it  stands  in  the  quarto,  was  written  before 
Greene's  death. 

The  parodied  line,  however,  is  thought  to  identify  the 
plays  in  question  as  the  particular  feathers  with  which  the 
upstart  crow  had  beautified  himself.  And,  surely,  if 
Shakespeare  had  indeed  been  guilty  of  such  an  enormous 
piece  of  literary  theft  as  the  case  supposes,  he  most  richly 
deserved  all  that  was  said  of  him,  and  as  much  more  of  the 
same  kind  as  could  be  said;  and,  obviously,  the  best  course 
for  himself  and  his  friends  to  take  had  been  not  to  com- 
plain of  the  charge,  but  just  to  keep  as  quiet  as  they  pos- 
sibly could.  A  short  time  after  Greene's  death,  his  tract 
was  published  by  Henry  Chettle.  The  tract  gave  great 
offence  to  the  parties  attacked ;  and  a  few  months  later 
their  complaints  were  answered  by  Chettle  in  a  pamphlet 
entitled  Kind-Heart's  Dream,  which  has  the  following  ref- 
erence to  Shakespeare:  "I  am  as  sorry  as  if  the  original 
fault  had  been  my  fault,  because  myself  have  seen  his  de- 
meanor no  less  civil,  than  he  excellent  in  the  quality  he 
professes:  besides,  divers  of  worship  have  reported  his  up- 
rightness of  dealing,  which  argues  his '  honesty,  and  his 

xvi 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

facetious  grace  in  writing,  that  approves  his  art."  Surely, 
if,  with  a  full  knowledge  of  the  facts,  he  had  especially 
undertaken  to  clear  Shakespeare  from  the  charge,  and 
from  all  suspicion,  of  having  beautified  hitnself  with  stolen 
plumes,  he  coidd  scarce  have  used  words  more  apt  for  his 
purpose.  This  acquittal,  moreover,  is  greatly  confirmed 
by  Thomas  Nash,  who,  the  writing  of  Greene's  tract  hav- 
ing been  by  some  attributed  to  him,  has  the  following  in 
an  epistle  prefixed  to  the  second  edition  of  his  Pierce  Penni- 
less: "Otlier  news  I  am  advertised  of,  that  a  scald,  trivial, 
lying  pamphlet,  call'd  Greene's  Groatszcorth  of  Wit,  is 
given  out  to  be  of  my  doing.  God  never  have  care  of  my 
soul,  but  utterly  renounce  me,  if  the  least  word  or  syllable 
in  it  proceeded  from  my  pen,  or  if  I  were  any  way  privy 
to  the  writing  or  printing  of  it." 

Now,  whatsoever  motives  may  be  thought  to  have 
prompted  tliese  disavowals  of  Chettle  and  N^ash,  it  will 
hardly  be  questioned  that  the  acquittal  was  as  well- 
grounded  as  the  indictment  had  been.  For  if  Greene's 
charges  had  been  true,  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  they 
should  have  been  more  disreputable  to  the  author  than  to 
the  subject  of  them.  And  in  the  passage  quoted  from  him 
he  is  evidently  far  more  vituperative  of  others'  sins  than 
repentant  of  his  own ;  which,  to  say  the  least,  is  as  little 
suited  to  a  preparation  for  death,  as  the  matter  charged  is 
to  an  honorable  standing  in  life.  At  all  events,  it  may 
well  be  thought  that  in  Greene's  case  the  expectation  of 
death,  instead  of  making  him  bold  to  speak  the  truth,  had 
rather  taken  off  from  his  envy  the  restraints  of  fear,  and 
thus  emboldened  him  to  lie. 

Mr.  Collier,  however,  quotes  as  in  confirmation  of 
Greene's  charge,  a  passage  from  a  tract  by  R.  B.,  entitled 
Greene's  Funerals,  and  published  in  1594,  wherein  the 
writer,  speaking  of  others'  obligations  to  Greene,  adds, — 

"Nay,  more,  the  men  that  so  eclips'd  his  fame 
Purloin\}  his  plumes, — can  they  deny  the  same?" 

This   might    indeed   amount   to    something,    if   it   had   the 

XV  ii 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

appearance  of  being  an  independent  authority ;  but  does  it 
not  sound  too  much  as  a  mere  echo  of  what  Greene  him- 
self had  said  before?  Or,  if  it  be  thought  that  Greene's 
envy  must  have  had  somewhat  to  Avork  upon,  else  it  would 
scarce  have  taken  so  specific  a  shape,  perhaps  there  was 
matter  enough  short  of  such  a  wholesale  appropriation  of 
other  men's  works.  For  example,  in  The  First  Part  of 
Henry  VI,  Act  v.  so.  3,  occurs  the  following: 

"She's  beautiful,  and  therefore  to  be  woo'd; 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore  to  be  won." 

The  latter  of  these  lines,  as  Mr.  Collier  tells  us,  is  found 
in  Greene's  Planet omachia,  which  was  printed  as  early  as 
1585.  Again,  two  of  the  original  lines  in  the  Third  Part, 
Act  V.  sc.  6,  are  these,  uttered  by  Richard  while  stabbing 
Henry : 

"If  any  spark  of  life  remain  in  thee, 
Down,  down  to  hell,  and  say  I  sent  thee  thither." 

And  in  Greene's  Alphonsus,  King  of  Arragon,  the  hero 
speaks  thus  to  Flaminius  while  killing  him : 

"Go,  pack  thee  hence  unto  the  Stygian  lake, 
And  make  report  unto  thy  traitorous  sire. 
How  well  thou  hast  enjoy'd  the  diadem. 
Which  he  by  treason  set  upon  thy  head: 
And  if  he  ask  thee  who  did  send  thee  down, 
Alphonsus  say,  who  now  must  wear  thy  crown." 

Might  not  a  few  such  borrowed  feathers  as  these  suffice 
to  start  and  to  set  Greene's  exaggerations  of  envy  and 
spleen  .P  But,  if  these  be  not  enough,  there  is  strong  rea- 
son, as  was  seen  in  our  Introduction  to  that  play,  to  think 
that  Greene  was  the  author  of  the  old  play  whereon  Shake- 
speare founded  his  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

Mr.  Dyce,  also,  collates  a  number  of  original  passages 
from  the  two  plays  in  question  with  similar  ones  in  Mar- 
lowe's Edward  II.     Thus  in  the  Second  Part,  Act  i.  sc.  3 : 

"She  bears  a  duke's  whole  revenues  on  her  back."     And  ia 

xviii 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

Edxcard  II:  "He  wears  a  lord's  revenue  on  his  back." 
Again,  in  the  Third  Part,  Act  v.  sc.  2:  "Thus  yields  the 
cedar  to  the  axe's  edge,  whose  arms  gave  shelter  to  the 
princely  eagle."  And  in  Edward  II:  "A  lofty  cedar-tree, 
fair-flourishing,  on  whose  top-branches  kingly  eagles 
perch."  And  there  are  several  others,  in  some  of  which  the 
resemblances  arc  still  closer.  It  need  scarce  be  said  that 
such  resemblances  infer  a  borrowing  one  way  or  the  other. 
Now  the  argument  from  Greene's  tract  supposes  both  the 
oriffinals  and  the  additions  of  the  Second  and  Third  Parts 
to  have  been  written  before  September,  1592.  jNIarlowe 
was  killed,  June  1,  1593,  in  his  29th  year,  and  his  Ed- 
ward II  was  entered  at  the  Stationers',  July  6,  1593.  It 
is  on  all  hands  allowed  to  be  far  the  best,  and  probably  the 
last-written  of  his  plays.  Its  superiority  of  style  to  his 
Tamhiirlaine,  which  was  probably  written  as  earh'  as  1587, 
is  so  great,  as  naturally  to  suggest  the  influence  of  new 
and  better  models;  since  without  such  help  one  could  scarce 
make  so  much  advance  in  so  short  a  time.  Might  it  not 
well  be,  then,  that  m  so  close  a  study  of  those  models  divers 
passages  got  planted  in  his  memory,  and  when,  shortly 
after,  he  went  to  writing  on  a  kindred  subject,  transferred 
themselves  to  his  page.^  Or,  if  v/e  suppose  his  Edxcard  II 
to  have  preceded  the  originals  of  the  two  plays  in  hand, 
then  why  may  not  the  resembling  passages  collated  by  ]Mr. 
Dyce  have  been  a  part  of  the  very  matter  referred  to  in 
Greene's  "upstart  crow  beautified  with  our  feathers".? 

It  is  remarkable  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  resem- 
blances pointed  out  by  Mr.  Dyce,  those  who  have  con- 
curred with  ISIalone  in  taking  the  old  plays  from  Shake- 
speare, have  added  nothing  to  Malone's  arguments.  And 
it  is  equally  remarkable  that  those  who  agree  that  Shake- 
speare did  not  write  them  are  at  considerable  odds  amongst 
themselves  as  to  who  did.  ]Malone  at  first  thought  that 
either  Greene  and  Peele  wrote  them  conjointly,  or  that 
Greene  wrote  the  one  and  Peele  tlie  other;  but  afterwards 
he  was  "inclined  to  believe  that  ]\Iarlowe  was  the  author  of 
one,  if  not  of  both."     Mr.  Collier,  speaking  of  the  Co-n- 


XIX 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

tention,  says, — "By  whom  it  was  written  we  have  no  in* 
formation ;"  and  of  the  True  Tragedy  he  says, — "Al- 
though there  is  no  ground  whatever  for  giving  it  to  Mar- 
lowe, there  is  some  reason  for  supposing  that  it  came  from 
the  pen  of  Robert  Greene."  Mr.  Hallam  says, — "It  seems 
probable  that  the  old  plays  were  in  great  part  by  Mar- 
lowe, though  Greene  seems  to  put  in  for  some  share  in 
their  composition."  And  in  another  place  he  speaks  thus : 
"The  greater  part  of  the  plays  is,  in  the  judgment,  I  con- 
ceive, of  all  competent  critics,  far  above  the  powers  either 
of  Greene  or  Peele,  and  exhibits  a  much  greater  share 
of  the  spirited  versification,  called  by  Jonson  the  'mighty 
line'  of  Christopher  Marlowe."  Concurrent  with  this  lat- 
ter is  the  judgment  of  Mr.  Dyce:  "Greene  may  have  con- 
tributed his  share ;  so  also  may  Lodge,  and  so  may  Peele 
have  done :  but  in  both  pieces  there  are  scenes  characterized 
by  a  vigour  of  conception  and  expression,  to  which,  as 
their  undisputed  works  demonstratively  prove,  neither 
Greene,  nor  Lodge,  nor  Peele  could  possibly  have  risen." 

The  other  part  of  the  question  may  be  despatched  with 
comparative  brevity  and  ease ;  the  main  points  of  the  argu- 
ment having  been  some  of  them  stated,  and  all  of  them 
suggested  in  our  Introduction  to  the  preceding  play.  For 
the  conclusion,  urged  from  the  Epilogue  to  Henry  V  in 
case  of  the  First  Part,  holds  equally  strong  in  reference 
to  the  Second  and  Third.  The  three  plays  have  a  com- 
mon subject,  namely,  the  showing  how,  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VI,  "so  many  had  the  managing,  that  they  lost 
France,  and  made  his  England  bleed."  The  losing  of 
France  is  the  special  matter  of  the  First  Part;  the  making 
England  bleed,  of  the  Second  and  Third;  both  of  which, 
the  Poet,  when  writing  that  Epilogue,  took  upon  him  to 
say,  "oft  our  stage  hath  shown."  And  with  what  pro- 
priety could  he  beg  the  audience  to  accept  a  play  of  his 
making,  because  they  had  already  accepted  plays  not  of 
his  making?  Would  he  ask  them  to  smile  on  what  he  had 
written,  inasmuch  as  they  had  been  wont  to  smile  on  what 
he  had  stolen.''     Or,  to  put  the  thing  more  fairly,  their  hav- 

XX 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

ing  liked  some  plajs  that  he  had  merely  enlarged  was 
surely  an  odd  reason  why  they  should  like  a  play  originated 
by  him.  So  that  we  seem  to  have  from  the  Poet  himself 
an  implied  claim  of  authorship  in  the  case. 

We  have  another  point  of  external  evidence,  perhaps 
equally  strong,  in  the  simple  fact  of  the  plays'  being  given 
to  the  world  as  Shakespeare's,  b}^  those  who  had  every 
opportunity  to  know  the  truth,  and  no  apparent  motive  to 
put  forth  any  thing  as  his,  which  was  known  to  be  from 
another.  Their  Preface  shows  that  the  editors  of  the  first 
folio  knew  well  what  they  were  about,  and  why.  Nor  may 
this  argument  be  so  easily  nonsuited  by  supposing  their 
action  in  this  case  to  have  stood  on  the  ground  of  Shake- 
speare's acknowledged  additions.  For  the  quartos  were 
at  hand,  their  authorship  apt  to  be  known ;  and  any  care- 
ful reader  might  see  that  the  entire  conception  and  more 
than  half  the  execution  of  the  plays  in  question  were  there. 
And  when  the  editors  speak  of  "divers  maimed  and  de- 
formed copies,"  as  being  '"now  offer'd  to  your  view  cur'd, 
and  perfect  of  their  limbs,"  what  more  likely  than  that 
those  very  quartos  may  have  been  among  the  copies  meant.'* 
At  all  events,  their  purpose,  as  it  ought  to  have  been,  mani- 
festly was,  to  set  forth  none  but  perfect  copies  of  what 
they  knew  Shakespeare  to  have  written. 

Malone's  argument  from  the  internal  evidence  views  the 
plays  separately  and  without  any  reference  to  one  an- 
other. As  what  strength  it  has  seems  chiefly  owing  to 
this  mode  of  viewing  them  apart,  so  it  ma}^  doubtless  be 
best  met  by  viewing  them  together.  If,  then,  we  take  the 
three  parts  of  Henry  VI  together  with  Richard  III,  we 
shall  find  them  all  to  be  so  connected  that  each  former 
play  of  the  series  is  a  necessary  introduction  to  the  fol- 
lowing, and  each  later  one  a  necessary  sequel  to  the  pre- 
ceding; that  is,  they  will  appear  to  be  four  plays  only  be- 
cause too  long  to  be  one,  or  two,  or  three.  Perhaps  the 
force  of  this  argument  may  be  best  approved  by  trying 
it  in  another  case.     Now,  it  is  quite  manifest  that  Richard 

II  is  essentially  a  play  to  be  continued:  it  was  evidently 

xxi 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

written  with  the  matter  and  design  of  the  following  play 
in  mind.  Hence  the  several  forecastings  and  givings-out 
which  it  has,  concerning  events  and  passages  that  are  left 
unrepresented  in  the  pla}'^  itself.  These  are  as  germs 
thrown  in  with  purpose  of  future  development:  the  Poet  is 
not  content  to  set  forth  the  transactions  of  the  play  clearly 
for  what  they  are  in  themselves,  but  takes  care  that  we 
shall  also  regard  them  as  the  first  beginnings  of  things  yet 
to  be,  thus  awakening  an  expectation  of  something  further, 
and  preparing  the  reader's  mind  for  his  intended  sequel. 
Such,  it  scarce  need  be  said,  are  the  prophetic  remonstx-ances 
of  the  intrepid  Bishop,  in  Act  iv.  sc.  i  : 

"And  if  you  crown  him,  let  me  prophesy. 
The  blood  of  English  shall  manure  the  ground; 
And  in  this  seat  of  peace  tumultuous  wars 
Shall  kin  %vith  kin,  and  kind  with  kind  confoimd;" — 

the  predictions  of  Richard  to  Northumberland  in  Act  v, 
sc.  1 : 

"The  time  shall  not  be  many  hours  of  age 
More  than   it  is,  ere   foul  sin,   gatheriiig  head, 
Shall  break  into  corruption:     Thou  shalt  think, 
Though  he  divide  the  realm,  and  give  thee  half, 
It  is  too  little,  helping  him  to  all; 
And  he  shall  think  that  thou,  which  know'st  the  way 
To  plant  unrightful  kings,  will  know  again. 
Being  ne'er  so  little  urg'd,  another  way 
To  pluck  him  headlong  from  the  usurped  throne;" — 

and  above  all  the  dialogue  touching  Prince  Henry  in  Act 
V.  sc.  3,  closing  up  with  Bolingbroke's  happy  forecast  of 
his  son: 

"As  dissolute  as  desperate;  yet,  through  both, 
I  see  some  sparks  of  better  hope,  which  elder  days 
May  happily  bring  forth." 

Now  these  are  manifest  impertinences  but  that  the}'  look 

to  a  further  representation.      It  were  hardly  possible  for 

the  Poet  to  give  out  promise  of  a  sequel  in  clear  terms. 

xxii 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

Viewed  in  this  light,  the  things  are  great  beauties;  other- 
wise, they  are  blemishes  altogether. 

Of  course  the  anticipations  thus  raised  are  met  and  an- 
swered in  Henry  IV,  which  in  turn  has  many  minute  and 
careful  references  to  events  set  forth  in  the  foregoing 
play.  Such  are  Hotspur's  mad  snappish  retrospections  of 
Bolingbroke  in  Act  i.  so.  S ;  his  reference  in  Act  iv.  so.  3, 
to  the  circumstances  of  the  king's  first  landing,  "when  his 
blood  was  poor,  upon  the  naked  shore  at  Ravenspurg;" 
the  king's  recurrence,  in  Part  II,  Act  iii.  sc.  2,  to  the  fore- 
cited  prophecy  of  Richard;  and  especially  the  alternate 
riotings,  repentings,  and  heroisms  of  the  prince. 

Thus  the  two  plays  are  closely  connected  by  a  variety 
of  reciprocal  allusions ;  insomuch  that,  if  Henry  IV  had 
come  down  to  us  as  Shakespeare's,  and  Richard  II  as 
anonymous,  there  could  be  almost  as  little  doubt,  it  should 
seem,  as  to  the  authorship  of  the  latter,  as  of  the  former. 
So  much,  then,  might  be  reasonably  inferred  from  the 
mere  logical  adjustment  and  correspondence  of  the  plays 
to  each  other.  Still  stronger  were  the  inference  from  the 
manifest  unity  of  design  and  action,  running  the  two 
plays  together  as  a  consistent  and  continuous  whole,  the 
first  bespeaking  the  second,  and  the  second  in  turn  suppos- 
ing the  first.  For,  granting  that  the  second,  though  taken 
up  as  an  afterthought,  might  be  thus  logically  and  dra- 
matically fitted  to  the  first,  still  there  is  the  forethought 
of  the  second  pervading  the  first,  which  were  hardly  recon- 
cilable with  diversity  of  authorship.  Then,  over  and 
above  all  this,  there  is  an  identity  of  conception  and  char- 
acterization in  the  two  plays,  resulting  in  a  vital,  organic 
unity  and  continuity.  And  this  is  the  strongest  argument 
of  all.  For  it  might  be  safely  afl^rmed,  that  none  but  the 
beffinner  of  Bolingbroke's  character  in  Richard  II  could 
have  thus  continued  it  in  Henry  IV. 

Now  this  argument  will  hold  good  in  every  particular, 

and,  if  possible,  with  still  greater  force,  between  Henry 

VI  and  Richard  III.     Not  only  is  the  latter  dramatically 

and  logically  fitted  to  the  former,  but  the  design  and  pur- 

xxiii 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

pose  of  the  latter  were  evidently  in  the  author's  mind  while 
writing  the  former.  And  the  unity  of  characterization,  in 
Edward,  Margaret,  and  especially  in  Richard,  is  every  whit 
as  perfect,  as  organic,  and  as  strong,  as  in  case  of  Boling- 
broke.  We  may  safely  affirm  that  The  Third  Part  of 
Henry  VI,  as  it  stands  in  the  quarto,  is,  in  its  design, 
structure,  and  conception,  essentially  a  drama  to  be  con- 
tinued. But  this  point  needs  illustrating,  and  our  speci- 
mens shall  all  be  from  the  original  form  of  the  play. 
Thus  in  Richard's  soliloquy.  Act  iii.  sc.  2 : 

"Ay,    Edward   will   use   women   honorably. 
Would  he  were  wasted,  marrow,  bones,  and  all ! 
That  from  his  loins  no  issue  might  succeed, 
To  hinder  me  from  the  golden  time  I  look  for: 
For  I  am  not  yet  look'd  on  in  the  world. 
First  is  there  Edward,  Clarence,  and  Henry, 
And  his  son,  and  all  they  look  for  issue 
Of  their  loins,  ere  I  can  plant  myself." 

Thus  also  in  Henry's  prophecy  to  Richard  in  the  Tower, 
Act  V.  sc.  6: 

"That  many  a  widow  for  her  husband's  death. 
And  many  an  infant's  water-standing  eye. 
Widows  for  their  husbands,  children  for  their  fathers. 
Shall  curse  the  time  that  ever  thou  wert  born." 

And  in  Richard's  dark  mutterings  to  himself  in  the  same 
scene,  after  killing  Henry: 

"Clarence,  bev-are;  thou  keep'st  me  from  the  light; 
But  I  will  sort  a  pitchy  day  for  thee: 
For  I  will  buz  abroad  such  prophecies. 
Under  pretence  of  outward-seeming  ill. 
As  Edward  shall  be  fearful  of  his  life. 
And  then  to  purge  his  fear  I'll  be  thy  death." 

And  again,  the  breaking  out  of  his  bloody  designs  in  the 
last  scene ;  the  third  line  of  course  referring  to  his  head 
and  his  hand: 

■"This  shoulder  was  ordain'd  so  thick,  to  heave; 
And  heave  it  shall  some  weight,  or  break  my  back  5 
Work  thou  the  way, — and  thou  shalt  execute." 

xxiv 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

And,  above  all,  the  episodical  dialogue  and  prophecy  of 
Henry  touching  young  Richmond,  Act  iv.  sc.  6 : 

"Come  hither,  pretty  lad:     If  heavenly  powers 
Do  aim  aright  to  my  divining  thoughts, 
Thou,  i)retly  boy.  shalt  prove  tliis  country's  bliss." 

It  were  needless  to  urge  how  out  of  place  these  things 
are,  save  as  bespeaking  a  continuation  of  the  subject,  and 
just  such  a  continuation,  withal,  as  we  have  in  Richard  III. 
In  the  latter  play  the  seeds,  which  had  been  thus  dropped 
for  future  bearing,  "become  the  hatch  and  brood  of  time." 
Among  the  very  first  things  we  meet  with  therein  is  the 
avowal  of  "inductions  dangerous"  already  set  on  foot  in 
fulfilment  of  the  promise  touching  Clarence.  And  in  Act 
iv.  sc.  2,  we  have  Richard  remembering  how  Henry 

"Did  prophesy  that  Richmond  should  be  king. 
When  Richmond  was  a  little  peevish  boy." 

And  the  latter  play  abounds  quite  unusually  in  references 
to  what  was  said  and  done  in  the  former.  For  instance,  in 
Act  i.  sc.  4f,  we  find  that  Clarence  has  been  dreaming  of 
his  perjury  to  Warwick,  and  of  his  stabbing  Prince  Ed- 
ward in  the  field  by  Tewksbury ;  both  which  events  oc- 
curred in  Act  V.  scenes  1  and  5  of  the  preceding  play. 
Again,  in  the  former  play.  Act  i.  sc.  4,  we  have  the  nap- 
kin dipped  in  Rutland's  blood,  and  given  to  his  father,  and 
York  saying  to  his  tormentors,  who  had  mockingly 
crowned  him  with  paper, — "Here,  take  the  crown,  and  with 
the  crown  my  curse," — and  when  the  savage  cruelties  are 
over,  Margaret  says, — "What !  weeping-ripe,  my  lord 
Northumberland.''"  All  which  things  are  minutel}'^  re- 
ferred to  in  Act  i.  sc.  3,  of  the  latter  play,  where  INIargaret 
is  put  to  a  recollection  of  her  cruelty,  Buckingham  telling 
her  how  "Northumberland,  then  present,  wept  to  see  it 
and  Richard  reminding  her  of 

"The  curse  my  noble  father  laid  on  thee, 
When  thou  didst  crown  his  warlike  brows  with  paper, 
And  with  thy  scorns  drew'st  rivers  from  his  eyes; 

XXV 


5 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

And  then,  to  dry  them,  gav'st  the  duke  a  clout 
Steep'd  in  the  faultless  blood  of  pretty  Rutland !" 

These  things,  to  be  sure,  are  all  just  what  we  might  ex- 
pect from  an  author,  continuing  his  own  work,  with  the 
same  characters  and  the  same  course  of  events,  and  writing 
under  a  vivid  remembrance  of  what  he  had  formerly  set 
forth.  In  this  case,  and  in  this  alone,  it  was  natural  that 
the  two  plays  in  question  should  be  thus  closely  knit  to- 
gether by  mutual  references,  the  weak  beginnings  of  things 
suggesting  the  thought  of  distant  results,  and  the  harvest 
putting  the  reapers  in  mind  hovv^  and  what  they  had  sown. 
And  so  it  might  be  shown  that  the  substance  and  body 
of  Richard  III  is  in  great  part  but  a  development  of  things 
presignified  in  the  foregoing  play.  The  continuing  of 
Margaret  on  the  scene,  which  is  all  against  the  truth  of 
history,  was  to  the  very  end,  apparently,  that  the  parties 
might  have  a  terrible  present  remembrancer  of  their  former 
deeds ;  even  as  the  manhood  of  Richard  was  by  many  years 
anticipated  for  the  seeming  purpose  of  carrying  on  a  live- 
lier recollection  of  the  first  beginnings  into  the  final  issues 
of  this  multitudinous  tragedy. 

The  unity  and  continuity  of  the  characterization  will  be 
better  made  appear  in  our  Introduction  to  the  Third  Party 
when  we  come  to  speak  of  the  characters  in  detail.  For 
the  present,  suffice  it  to  say,  on  this  score,  that  in  Richard 
preeminently,  and  proportionably  in  several  others,  the 
Second  and  Third  Paris,  in  their  original  form,  exemplify 
in  large  measure  Shakespeare's  most  peculiar  method  of 
conceiving  and  working  out  character.  Strong  indeed 
must  be  the  external  evidence,  to  persuade  us  that  any 
mind  but  Shakespeare's  could  have  originated  and  ex- 
pressed the  conception  of  that  terrible  man, — so  merry- 
hearted,  subtle-witted,  and  bloody-handed,  whose  mental 
eflicacy  turns  perjury,  murder,  and  what  is  v.orse,  if  aught 
worse  there  be,  to  poetry, — as  he  grows  up  from  3'outh  to 
manhood  in  the  two  plays  under  consideration,  at  once  the 
offspring  and  the  avenger  of  civil  butchery. 

As  to  the  general  style  and  toning  of  these  plays,  their 

xxvi 


KING   HENRY    VI  Introduction 

logical  and  metrical  cast  and  complexion,  nothing  better, 
it  should  seem,  need  be  desired  than  the  remarks  of  Dr. 
Johnson.  "The  three  parts  of  King  Henry  VI,"  says  he, 
"are  declared,  by  Dr.  Warburton,  to  be  certainly  not 
Shakespeare's.  He  gives  no  reason ;  but  I  suppose  him  to 
draw  his  opinion  from  the  general  effect  and  spirit  of  the 
composition,  which  he  thinks  inferior  to  the  other  his- 
torical plays.  From  mere  inferiority  nothing  can  be  in- 
ferred: in  the  productions  of  wit  there  will  be  inequality. 
Sometimes  judgment  will  err,  and  sometimes  the  matter 
itself  will  defeat  the  artist.  Of  every  author's  works,  one 
will  be  the  best,  and  one  will  be  the  worst.  Tli£  colors  are 
not  equally  pleasing,  nor  the  attitudes  equally  graceful, 
in  all  the  pictures  of  Titian  or  Reynolds.  Dissimilitude 
of  style  and  hetcrogeneousness  of  sentiment  may  sufficiently 
show  that  a  v/ork  docs  not  really  belong  to  the  reputed 
author.  But  in  these  plays  no  such  marks  of  spuriousness 
arc  found.  The  diction,  the  versification,  and  the  figures 
are  Shakespeare's." 

The  period  of  the  Seccynd  Fart  extends  from  the  arrival 
of  Queen  Margaret  in  England,  May,  1445,  till  the  first 
battle  of  St.  Albans,  '^ly,  1455.  Except  in  one  instance, 
the  leading  events  of  the  drama  come  along  in  their  actual 
order.  That  exception  is  the  proceedings  in  the  case  of 
Dame  Eleanor,  which  really  occurred  several  years  before 
the  opening  of  the  play.  Her  crime  and  disgrace,  how- 
ever, are  properly  represented  here,  as  they  had  a  large 
share  in  bringing  about  the  fall  of  her  husband,  while  his 
fall  had  in  turn  much  to  do  in  kindling  the  fierce  domestic 
wars  that  form  the  main  subject  of  this  and  the  following 
play.  Besides,  the  matter  in  question  furnishes  occasion 
for  a  most  characteristic  passage  between  the  duchess  and 
the  queen,  though  in  fact  they  never  met ;  thus  giving  an 
early  taste  of  the  haughty,  vindictive  temper,  the  in- 
domitable energy,  and  firc-spouting  tongue,  which  mark 
the  whole  course  of  Margaret,  fitting  her  to  be,  as  in  truth 
she  was,  the  constant  provoker  and  stirrer-up  of  hatreds 
and  strifes.     And  it  seems  no  slight  argimient  of  a  com- 


XXV 11 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

mon  authorship,  that  the  ruin  of  the  duchess  is  here  bor- 
rowed from  the  time  of  the  preceding  play,  as  the  death 
of  the  Talbots  was  there  borrowed  from  the  period  of  this, 
the  two  events  being  thus  assorted  into  their  respective 
connections ;  while,  as  regards  the  main  action  of  the  play, 
their  effect  is  the  same,  whether  set  forth  in  their  actual 
order  or  not. 

In  all  other  points  the  opening  of  the  present  play  takes 
up  the  thread  of  history  precisely  where  it  was  left  at  the 
close  of  the  former.  And  the  proceedings  of  the  Second 
Part  for  the  most  part  grow  forth  naturally  and  in  course 
from  the  principles  of  the  First,  the  two  plays  being  as 
closely  interwoven  as  any  two  acts  of  either.  The  criminal 
passion  of  Margaret  and  Suffolk,  which  was  there  pre- 
sented in  the  bud,  here  blossoms  and  goes  to  seed,  setting 
him  near  the  throne,  and  thereby  at  once  feeding  his  pride 
and  chafing  the  pride  of  his  enemies ;  while  the  losses  in 
France,  before  represented,  are  ever  and  anon  recurring 
as  matter  of  continual  twittings  and  jerks,  the  rust  of 
former  miscarriages  thus  at  the  same  time  keeping  the  old 
wounds  from  healing,  and  causing  the  new  ones  to  fester 
and  rankle.  As  the  amiable  imbecility  of  the  king  invites 
and  smooths  the  way  for  the  arrogance  and  over  weening 
of  the  queen  and  her  favorites,  this  naturally  sets  the  aspir- 
ing and  far-reaching  York  upon  the  policy  of  hewing 
away  one  after  another  the  main  supports  of  the  rival 
house,  that  so  at  last  he  may  heave  it  to  the  ground,  and 
out  of  its  ruins  build  up  his  own.  The  fall  of  Gloster  is 
the  first  practicable  breach,  though,  in  making  York  a  se- 
cret plotter  and  instigator  of  the  conspiracy  against  him, 
it  may  be  questionable  whether  the  interest  of  the  drama 
be  not  served  too  much  at  the  expense  of  history.  Then, 
in  strict  accordance  with  the  suspicions  of  the  time,  York 
is  represented  as  scheming  afar  off  the  insurrection  of 
Cade,  as  a  sort  of  feeler  of  the  public  pulse,  and  then  tak- 
ing advantage  of  it  to  push  his  designs.  That  insurrec- 
tion comes  in  aptly  as  the  first  outbreak  of  the  great  social 

schism,  the  elements  of  which  had  been  long  working  in 

xxviii 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

secret,  and  growing  to  a  head.  The  passages  of  humor, 
interspersed  through  the  scenes  of  Cade  and  his  followers, 
being  mostly  the  same  in  the  original  form  of  the  play, 
yield  strong  evidence  in  the  question  of  authorship.  It 
seems  hard  to  believe  that  any  one  but  Shakespeare  could 
have  written  them,  no  instances  in  that  line  at  all  approach- 
ing these  having  been  elsewhere  given  by  any  other  writer 
of  that  time.  For  in  poetry  merely,  Shakespeare,  though 
immeasurably  above  any  or  all  of  his  senior  contempo- 
raries, differs  from  them  but  in  degree;  but  in  the  article 
of  humor  he  shows  a  difference  from  them  in  kind.  And 
it  is  remarkable  that  the  instinct  and  impulse  of  humor 
seem  in  this  case  to  have  put  him  upon  blending  together 
the  elements  of  two  widely-separated  passages  of  history: 
the  persons  and  events  being  those  of  the  insurrection, 
known  as  Jack  Cade's ;  while  the  sentiments  and  designs 
are  the  same,  in  part,  which  became  matter  of  history  some 
seventy  years  before  in  the  rebellion  of  Wat  Tyler  and 
Jack  Straw.  This  curious  fact  was  first  pointed  out  by 
Mr.  Courtenay,  who  cites  the  following  from  Holinshed's 
'account  of  the  earlier  insurrection:  "They  began  to  show 
proof  of  those  things  which  they  had  before  conceived  in 
their  minds, — beheading  all  such  men  of  law  as  they  might 
catch,  alleging  that  the  land  could  never  enjoy  her  true 
liberty,  till  all  those  sorts  of  people  were  despatched  out  of 
the  way.  This  talk  liked  well  the  ears  of  the  common 
people,  and  they  purposed  to  burn  and  destro}''  all  records, 
evidences,  court-rolls,  and  other  monuments,  that  their 
landlords  might  not  have  whereby  to  challenge  any  right 
at  their  hands.  What  wickedness  was  it,  to  compel  teach- 
ers of  cliildrcn  in  grammar  schools  to  swear  never  to  in- 
struct any  in  this  art !  For  it  was  dangerous  among  tliem 
to  be  known  for  one  that  was  learned ;  and  more  danger- 
ous, if  any  one  were  found  with  a  penner  and  ink-horn  at 
his  side.  At  Blackheath,  when  the  greatest  multitude  was 
there  got  together,  John  Ball  made  a  sermon,  taking  this 
saying  for  his  theme: 

xxix 


Introduction  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

"When  Adam  delv'd  and  Eve  span, 
Who  was  then  a  gentleman?" 

After  the  quelling  of  Cade's  insurrection,  which  was  in 
Jul}',  1450,  the  Poet  overleaps  the  events,  with  one  excep- 
tion, of  more  than  four  years,  and  enters  upon  the  pre- 
liminaries of  the  battle  of  St.  Albans,  which  was  the  first 
ripe  fulfilment  of  the  presage  and  promise  given  out  far 
back  in  the  scene  of  the  Temple  Garden,  and  the  fore- 
thought of  which  is  more  or  less  apparent  in  the  whole 
preceding  matter  of  the  dramatic  series.  As  to  the  rest, 
the  main  events  of  the  play,  with  the  historical  passages 
whereon  they  are  founded,  will  be  set  forth  in  notes  from 
time  to  time,  as  they  occur. 

The  Second  Part  of  Henry  VI  is  manifestly  a  great  ad- 
vance upon  the  First,  and  that  in  nearly  all  the  particulars 
of  dramatic  excellence.  The  several  members  are  well  knit 
together ;  the  characterization  is  bold,  but,  in  the  main, 
firm  and  steady ;  the  action  clear,  free,  and  generally  car- 
ried on  in  that  consecutiveness  that  every  later  part  seems 
the  natural  growth  and  issue  of  what  had  gone  before. 
Much  of  this  superiority,  no  doubt,  was  owing  to  the  na- 
ture of  the  materials,  which,  besides  yielding  a  greater 
variety  of  interest,  were  of  themselves  more  limber  and 
pliant  to  the  shaping  of  art,  and  presented  less  to  distract 
and  baffle  the  powers  of  dramatic  assortment  and  composi- 
tion. The  losses  in  France  having  been  despatched  in  the 
former  play,  nothing  of  them  remained  for  the  Poet's  use, 
but  the  domestic  irritations  they  had  engendered ;  which 
irritations  were  as  so  many  eggs  of  discord  in  the  nest  of' 
English  life,  and  Queen  Margaret  the  hot-breasted  fury 
that  hatched  them  into  effect.  The  hatching  process  is  the 
main  subject  of  this  play,  and  to  that  end  the  representa- 
tion is  ordered  with  considerable  skill. 

Nor  is  the  superiority  of  this  play  any  greater  in  the 
general  effect,  than  in  the  force  and  beauty  of  particular 
scenes  and  passages.  Of  single  speeches,  that  of  Gloster 
in  Act  iii.  sc.  1,  beginning, — "Ah,  gracious  lord!  these 
days  are  dangerous ;"  that  of  Warwick  in  the  next  scene 

XXX 


KING    HENRY    VI  Introduction 

but  one,  describing  the  signs  of  Gloster's  having  been 
murdered;  and  that  of  Suffolk  in  the  same  scene,  telHng 
how  he  would  curse  his  enemies ;  also,  the  longer  speech  of 
Lord  Say,  in  Act  iv.  sc.  7,  pleading  for  his  life;  and  that 
of  young  Clifford  in  Act  v.  sc.  2,  where  he  finds  his  father 
dead : — all  these  ma}-  be  mentioned  as  superior  to  any 
thing  of  the  kind  in  the  First  Part,  and  such,  indeed,  as 
would  hardly  discredit  the  Poet's  best  dramas.  And  of 
whole  scenes,  the  second  in  Act  iii.,  and  the  seventh  in  Act 
iv.,  ma}'^  be  cited  as  instances  of  high  and  varied  excellence. 
Far  above  all  others,  however,  is  the  death-scene  of  Cardi- 
nal Beaufort,  which  is  awfully  impressive,  running  into  the 
very  heights  of  moral  sublimity,  and  apt  to  remind  us  of 
the  sleep-walking  scene  in  Macbeth.  Schlegcl  justly  re- 
marks concerning  it, — "Can  any  other  poet  be  named,  who 
has  drawn  aside  the  curtain  of  eteniity  at  the  close  of  this 
life  with  such  overpowering  and  awful  effect.''  And  yet 
it  is  not  mere  horror  with  which  the  mind  is  filled,  but  sol- 
emn emotion.  A  blessing  and  a  curse  stand  side  by  side: 
the  pious  king  is  an  image  of  the  heavenly  mercy  which, 
even  in  the  sinner's  last  moments,  labors  to  enter  his 
soul." 


XX  XX 


COMMENTS 

By  Shakespearean  Scholars 

HENRY  VI  AND  MARGARET 

The  relations  of  the  King  to  Margaret  throughout  the 
play  are  delicately  and  profoundly  conceived.  He  clings 
to  her  as  to  something  stronger  than  himself ;  he  dreads  her 
as  a  boy  might  dread  some  formidable  master: 

Exeter.  Here  comes  the  Queen,  whose  looks  betray  her  anger: 

I'll  steal  away. 
Henry.  And  so  will  I. 

Yet  through  his  own  freedom  from  passion,  he  derives  a 
sense  of  superiority  to  his  wife ;  and  after  she  has  dashed 
him  all  over  with  the  spray  of  her  violent  anger  and  her 
scorn,  Henry  msiy  be  seen  mildly  wiping  away  the  drops, 
insufferably  placable,  offering  excuses  for  the  vitupera- 
tion and  the  insults  which  he  has  received. 

Poor  Queen,  how  love  to  me  and  to  her  son 
Hath  made  her  break  out  into  terms  of  rage. 

— DowDEN,  ShaJxspere — His  Mind  and  Art. 

RICHARD,  DUKE  OF  YORK 

Margaret's  chief  opponent  in  the  Second  Part,  the 
Duke  of  York,  also  has  assigned  to  him  a  somewhat  more 
commanding  role  than  in  the  Chronicle.  Till  near  the 
close  he  plays  a  waiting  game ;  but  he  plays  it  with  more 
far-reaching  and  more  unscrupulous  policy  than  his  his- 
toric prototype.      Holinshed's  York  watches  the  two  great 

obstacles  in  his  path,  Gloucester  and  Suffolk,  successively 

xxxii 


KING   HENRY   VI  Comments 

ruined  without  his  stir ;  the  dramatic  York  is  not  prevented 
by  Gloucester's  warm  advocacy  of  liis  claims  to  the  French 
regency  (i.  i.)  from  actively  "levelling  at  his  life"  (iii.  i. 
158).  Holinshed  attril)utes  Cade's  revolt  to  incitements 
of  "those  that  favoured  the  Duke  of  York."  In  the  play 
it  is  York  himself  who  conceives  the  plan  of  stirring  up  in 
England  this  "black  storm."  At  the  very  moment  when 
he  finally  threw  off  disguise  and  claimed  the  crown,  the 
York  of  Holinshed  and  history  was  all  but  checkmated  by 
a  resolute  move  of  the  party  in  power.  Rashly  disbanding 
his  troops  on  the  king's  compliance  with  his  demand  for 
Somerset's  arrest,  he  was  himself  arrested  and  sent  to  the 
Tower ;  and  his  fate  hung  in  the  balance  when  the  news  of 
Edward's  armed  advance  caused  his  sudden  release.  The 
York  of  the  drama  suffers  a  briefer  anxiety.  His  arrest  is 
no  sooner  proposed  than  Richard  and  PMward  rush  in  to 
bail  him,  and  his  "two  brave  bears,"  Warwick  and  Salis- 
bury, compel  the  appeal  to  arms  which  issues  in  the  victory 
of  St.  Albans. — Herford,  The  Eversley  Shakespeare. 


CADE'S  REBELLION 

What  is  so  remarkable  and  instructive  in  these  brilliant 
[Cade]  scenes  is  that  Shakespeare  here,  quite  against  his 
custom,  departs  from  his  authority.  In  Holinshed,  Jack 
Cade  and  his  followers  do  not  appear  at  all  as  the  crazy 
Calibans  whom  Shakespeare  depicts.  The  chief  of  their 
grievances,  in  fact,  Mas  that  the  King  alienated  the  crown 
revenues  and  lived  on  the  taxes ;  and,  moreover,  they  com- 
plained of  abuses  of  all  sorts  in  the  execution  of  the  laws 
and  the  raising  of  revenue.  The  third  article  of  their  me- 
morial stands  in  striking  contrast  to  their  action  in  the 
play;  for  it  points  out  that  nobles  of  royal  blood  (prob- 
ably meaning  York)  are  excluded  from  the  King's  "dailie 
presence,"  while  he  gives  advancement  to  "otlicr  meane 
persons  of  lower  nature,"  who  close  the  King's  ears  to  the 

complaints  of  the  country',  and  distribute  favors,  not  ac- 

xxxiii 


Comments  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

cording  to  law,  but  for  gifts  and  bribes.  Moreover,  they 
complain  of  interferences  with  freedom  of  election,  and, 
in  short,  express  themselves  quite  temperately  and  constitu- 
tionally. Finally,  in  more  than  one  passage  of  the  com- 
plaint, they  give  utterance  to  a  thoroughl}^  English  and 
patriotic  resentment  of  the  loss  of  Normandy,  Gascony, 
Aquitaine,  Anjou,  and  Maine. 

But  it  did  not  at  all  suit  Shakespeare  to  show  a  Jack 
Cade  at  the  head  of  a  popular  movement  of  this  sort.  He 
took  no  interest  in  anything  constitutional  or  parliamen- 
tary. In  order  to  find  the  colors  he  wanted  for  the  rebel-, 
lion,  he  hunts  up  in  Stow's  Summarie  of  the  Chronicles  of 
England  the  picture  of  Wat  Tyler's  and  Jack  Straw's  ris- 
ings under  Richard  II,  two  outbursts  of  wild  communistic 
enthusiasm,  reinforced  by  religious  fanaticism.  From  this 
source  he  borrows,  almost  word  for  Avord,  some  of  the 
rebels'  speeches.  In  these  risings,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  all 
"men  of  law,  justices,  and  jurors"  who  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  leaders  were  beheaded,  and  all  records  and  muniments 
burnt,  so  that  owners  of  property  might  not  in  future 
have  the  means  of  establishing  their  rights. 

This  contempt  for  the  judgment  of  the  masses,  this  anti- 
democratic conviction,  having  early  taken  possession  of 
Shakespeare's  mind,  he  keeps  on  instinctively  seeking  out 
new  evidences  in  its  favor,  new  testimonies  to  its  truth; 
and  therefore  he  transforms  facts,  where  they  do  not  suit 
his  view,  on  the  model  of  other  facts  which  do. — BrandeSj 
William  Shakespeare. 


MARGARET  OF  ANJOU 

The  old  chronicler  Hall  informs  us,  that  Queen  Mar- 
garet "excelled  all  other  as  well  in  beauty  and  favour,  as 
in  wit  and  policy,  and  was  in  stomach  and  courage  more 
like  to  a  man  than  to  a  woman."  He  adds,  that  after  the 
espousals  of  Henry  and  Margaret,  "the  king's  friends  fell 

from  him ;  the  lords  of  the  realm  fell  in  division  among 

xxxiv 


KING   HENRY   VI  Comments 

themselves ;  the  Commons  rebelled  against  their  natural 
prince;  fields  were  foughtcn ;  many  tliousands  slain;  and, 
finally,  the  king  was  deposed,  and  his  son  slain,  and  his 
queen  sent  home  again  with  as  much  misery  and  sorrow,  as 
she  was  received  with  pomp  and  triumph." 

This  passage  seems  to  have  furnished  the  groundwork 
of  the  character  as  it  is  developed  in  these  plays  with  no 
great  depth  or  skill.  Margaret  is  portrayed  with  all  the 
exterior  graces  of  her  sex;  as  bold  and  artful,  with  spirit 
to  dare,  resolution  to  act,  and  fortitude  to  endure ;  but 
trcachorcus,  haughty,  dissembling,  vindictive,  and  Herce. 
The  bloody  struggle  for  power,  in  which  she  was  engaged, 
and  the  companionship  of  the  ruthless  iron  men  around 
her,  seem  to  have  left  her  nothing  of  womanhood  but  the 
heart  of  a  mother — that  last  stronghold  of  our  feminine 
nature !  So  far  the  character  is  consistently  drawn :  it  has 
something  of  the  power,  but  none  of  the  flowing  ease  of 
Shakespeare's  manner.  There  are  fine  materials  not  Avell 
applied ;  there  is  poetry  in  some  of  the  scenes  and  speeches ; 
the  situations  are  often  exceedingly  poetical;  but  in  the 
character  of  Margaret  herself,  there  is  not  an  atom  of 
poetry.  In  her  artificial  dignity,  her  plausible  wit,  and 
her  endless  volubility,  she  would  remind  us  of  some  of  the 
most  admired  heroines  of  French  tragedy,  but  for  that 
unlucky  box  on  the  ear  which  she  gives  the  Duchess  of 
Gloster, — a  violation  of  tragic  decorum,  which  of  course 
destroys  all  parallel. — Mrs.  Jameson,  Shakespeare's  Her- 
oines. 

It  is  certainly  true  that  in  Margaret's  character  we  still 
have  the  echo  of  those  gloomy  sounds  of  the  horrible 
which  in  "Titus  Andronicus"  we  had  in  the  fullest  rever- 
berations, and  this  again  proves  with  tolerable  certainty 
that  the  two  last  parts  of  "Henry  VI,"  likewise  belong  to 
Shakspeare's  earlier  works.  It  is  also  true  that  adultery 
did  not  require  to  be  added  to  the  other  crimes  of  the 
Queen,  And  yet  without  it  we  should  not  have  received 
such  a  perfect  insight  into  her  character,  which  is  so  im- 

XXX.V 


Comments  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

portant  for  the  whole  play.  For  it  is  self-evident  that 
such  an  energetic,  violent  and  thoroughly  unfeminine  na- 
ture, with  such  passionateness  and  heat  of  temper,  could 
not  have  had  any  affection  for  the  cold,  unmanly  and  ef- 
feminate King,  or  liave  remained  faithful  to  him.  Hence 
even  though  history  has  not  expressly  told  us  of  it — how- 
ever, if  not  mentioned  bj'  Holinslied  (as  Gervinus  says)  it 
is  expressly  stated  in  Grafton's  (Hall's)  Chronicle — the 
poet  at  all  events  could  rot  be  silent  on  a  subject,  which, 
as  a  matter  of  consistency,  was  demanded  by  history. 
Moreover,  this  terrible  energy  and  enormity,  this  :I  .neiess 
display  of  evil,  such  as  is  here  exhibited  in  a  woman,  is  no 
doubt  more  dramatic,  na}'  the  very  representation  of  it  is 
more  moral  than  the  secrit  sin  which  creeps  along  in  dark- 
ness, and  the  unexpressed  suspicion  of  v/hich  must  be  enter- 
tained by  the  spectators.  In  fact,  the  poet  required  an 
embodiment  of  the  prevailing  vices  and  crimes,  a  character 
in  which  was  concentrated  the  whole  demoralization  of  the 
age,  in  order  to  give  a  description  of  the  times,  and  to  un- 
fold the  meaning  and  significance  of  his  drama  in  the  full- 
est manner, — Ulrici,  Shakspere's  Dramatic  Art. 

Margaret  of  Anjou  was  the  complement  of  Henry  VI. 
Had  she  possessed  his  sweet  sincerity  and  humble  piety 
she  would  have  been  a  model  queen ;  had  he  possessed  her 
virile  and  resolute  courage  he  would  have  been  a  model 
king.  As  it  was,  Margaret  of  Anjou  supplied  the  place 
of  a  man  at  the  head  of  the  house  of  Lancaster ;  and  to  her 
alone  was  due  the  prolonged  struggle  between  the  white 
rose  and  the  red.  When  a  victory  for  Henry's  army  is 
spoken  of,  it  is  always  Margaret  who  is  in  the  field;  and 
it  is  Margaret  who  again  and  again,  in  spite  of  Warwick 
at  first,  and  afterward  in  alliance  with  him,  lifts  Henry 
from  a  state  of  humiliation  in  which  he  meekly  and  con- 
tentedly rests,  to  an  uncertain  triumph,  for  which  he  does 
not  care. — Warner,  English  History  in  Shakespeare's 
Plays. 

xxxvi 


KHSTG  HENRY  VI  Comments 


SUMMARY 

The  subject  of  the  second  part  of  Henry  VI  is  the  prog- 
ress  of  disorder  in  the   country   consequent  on   the   weak 
character  of  the  king,  his  want  of  every  spark  of  kingly, 
national  or  even  manly  spirit.     Of  a  devout  tendency,  his 
religious  feelings  have  not  the  energy  to  rise  from  a  pious 
ejaculation  to  a   fervent  prayer,  still  less  to   stimulate  a 
really  conscientious  action.      Selfishly  and  imprudently  he 
married  Margaret  to  gratify  a  passion  foolishly  adopted 
at  second   hand,  and   makes   no   effort  to   control  a   wife 
whose  vague  animosities  hurry  him  to  destruction ;  he  de- 
serts  Gloster   in   base   cravenheartedness,   and   when   he   is 
murdered    almost    under   his    eyes,    banishes    the    murderer 
Suffolk  only  when  compelled  by  the  indignant  outbreak  of 
the  commons,  and  then  from  no  higher  motive  than  appre- 
hension of  consequences  to  himself.     Afterwards  he  is  as 
ready  to  purchase  his  own  tranquillity  by  the  sacrifice  of 
the  rights  of  his  son;  and  thus  on  the  strength  of  harm- 
lessness  and  freedom  from  active  vice,  he  brings  the  coun- 
try into  civil  war,  and  takes  rank  as  a  saint.     The  char- 
acter of  Gloster  is  finely  contrasted  with  that  of  the  king: 
he    has     a    reputation     for     goodness — the     good     Duke 
Humphrey,  as  the  king  for  saintship ;  and  his  goodness, 
though  of  more  genuine  quality,  is  at  the  last  as  nugatory 
from  like  defect  of  energy.      He  laments  the  base  forfeit- 
ure of  national  honor,  that  never  gives  the  king  concern, 
yet  does  nothing  worthy  of  his  position  to  save  it,  is  ut- 
terly incapable  of  coping  with  the  ill-conditioned  Cardi- 
nal, and  descends  to  a  useless  and  degrading  brawl,  and  is 
at  last  his  victim,  and  is  as  unable  to  rule,  or  guide,  or 
protect  his  wife,  as  Henry  himself.      Such  a  pretence  of 
government   is   entirely   out   of  harmony   with   the   genius 
of  the  country  both  in  commonalty  and  nobility,  and  both 
classes    become    agitated    sympathetically.      The    men    of 
Kent  are  represented  as  rising  in  disgust  and  contempt  for 
the    ordinance    of    a    bookish    priestlike    king    and    coun- 

x.\xvii 


Comments  KING   HENRY   VI 

sellers,  who  acquiesce  in  the  loss  of  conquests  of  a  bolder 
monarch ;  and  a  powerful  confederacy  of  nobles  lends  aid 
to  the  claimant  of  the  throne  by  the  elder  line,  who  cer- 
tainly possesses  many  qualities  that  are  more  worthy  of 
power,  though  as  usual  in  history  they  can  only  command 
power  through  violence  and  fraud,  that  bring  on  a  Neme- 
sis behind  them.  The  crown  that  came  to  the  line  of 
Lancaster,  through  the  dissolute  misgovernment  of  Ricli- 
ard  II  falls  from  it  again  through  the  misgovernment  of 
the  factitious  piety  of  an  enervate  devotee. — Lloyd,  Crit- 
ical Essays, 


xxxviii 


THE  SECOND  PART  OF 
KING  HENRY  VI 


Shk-l-20 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 


KiXG  Henry  the  Sixth 

Humphrey,  Duke  of  Gloucester  [Oloster],  his  uncle 

Cardinal  Beaufort,  Bishoj)  of  Winchester,  great-uncle  to  the  King 

Richard  Plaxtagexet,  Duke  of  York 

Edwabd  and  Richard,  his  sons 

Duke  of  Somerset 

Duke  of  Suffolk 

Duke  of  Buckingham 

Lord  Clifford 

Young  Clifford,  his  son 

Earl  of  Salisbury 

Earl  of  Warwick 

Lord  Scales 

Lord  Say 

Sir  Humphrey  Stafford,  and  William  Stafford,  his  brother 

Sir  John   Stanley 

Vaux 

Matthew  Goffe 

A  Sea-captain,  Master,  and  Master's-Mate,  and  Walter  Whitmoee 

Two  Gentlemen,  prisoners  with  Suffolk 

John  Hume  and  John  Southwell,  priests 

Bolingbroke,  a  conjurer 

Tho3Ias  Horner,  an  armorer.     Peter,  ^(5  vnan 

Clerk  of  Chatham.     Mayor  of  Saint  Alban's 

Simpcox,  an  impostor 

Alexander  Iden,  a  Kentish  gentleman 

Jack  Cade,  a  rebel 

George  Bevis,  John  Holland,  Dick  the  butcher,  Smith  the  weaver, 

Michael,  &c.,  followers  of  Cade 
Two  Murderers 

Margaret,  Queen  to  King  Henry 
Eleanor,  Duchess  of  Gloucester 
Margaret  Jourdain,  a  witch 
Wife  to  Simpcox 

Lords,  Ladies,  and  Attendants,  Petitioners,  Aldermen,  a  Herald,  a 
Beadle,  Sheriff,  and  Officers,  Citizens,  'Prentices,  Falconers, 
Guards,  Soldiers,  Messengers,  &c. 

A  Spirit 

Scene:  England 


SYNOPSIS 


ACT    I 


When  Margaret  of  Anjou  is  brought  to  England  to 
marry  Henry  VI,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  lord-protector 
of  England,  is  dismayed  to  learn  that  she  has  brought  no 
dowry.  He  expresses  his  disappointment  to  the  other  no- 
bles, who,  instead  of  supporting  him,  plot  to  use  his  dis- 
satisfaction in  turning  the  king  against  him.  His  wife, 
Eleanor,  is  ambitious  of  being  England's  queen  and  hints 
to  Gloucester  tluit  if  he  only  would  he  could  seize  the  crown 
for  himself.  The  Duke  of  Suffolk  knows  of  this  desire 
of  the  Duchess  and  makes  his  first  attack  on  Gloucester 
through  his  wife.  Queen  Margaret,  anxious  to  be  queen 
in  reality  as  well  as  in  name,  allies  herself  with  Suffolk 
against  Gloucester.  The  -Duchess  of  Gloucester  is  per- 
suaded to  consult  sorcerers  regarding  the  future,  and  then 
she  and  the  conjurers  are  arrested. 

ACT    II 

The  Duke  of  York  convinces  the  Earls  of  Warwick  and 
Salisbury  that  he  is  the  rightful  heir  to  the  crown.  The 
Duchess  of  Gloucester  is  sentenced  to  banishment,  Glou- 
cester is  deposed  from  his  office  of  protector,  and  sum- 
moned to  appear  before  the  Parliament. 

ACT    HI 

Gloucester  goes  to  the  Parliament,  and,  in  spite  of  lack 
of  evidence,  is  arrested  and  imprisoned  for  high  treason. 
While  the  nobles  are  planning  Gloucester's  death,  a  mes- 
senger brings  news  of  an  uprising  in  Ireland.     The  Duke 

3 


Synopsis  KING  HENRY  VI 

of  York  is  sent  there  to  restore  order  and  he  rejoices  at 
the  opportunity'  thus  given  him  for  raising  an  army. 
Before  he  leaves  England,  he  arranges  with  a  Kentish  la-^j 
borer,  Jack  Cade  by  name,  to  incite  a  rebellion  at  home. 
Under  Suffolk's  direction  Gloucester  is  murdered  in  his 
prison ;  the  common  people,  hearing  of  it,  storm  the  pal- 
ace, demanding  Suffolk's  death  or  banishment.  Henry 
orders  Suffolk  to  leave  England's  territories  within  three 
days  on  pain  of  death. 

ACT    IV 

Suffolk  is  slain  at  sea  by  pirates.  Jack  Cade  wins  sev- 
eral small  battles,  seizes  London  Bridge,  and  enters  Lon- 
don, but  is  finally  defeated  by  the  royal  forces.  He  flees, 
but  a  price  is  set  on  his  head  and  he  is  soon  killed.  In 
the  meanwhile  York  returns  to  England  at  the  head  of 
his  army,  proclaiming  that  his  intentions  are  only  to  re- 
move from  office  the  Duke  of  Somerset. 

ACT    V 

Henry  meets  York  between  Dartford  and  Blackheath, 
but  the  interview  ends  in  open  rebellion  upon  York's  part. 
A  battle  takes  place  at  Saint  Albans,  ending  in  a  victory 
for  the  Duke  of  York.  The  king  flees  to  London  and  the 
victors,  York  and  Warwick,  resolve  to  follow. 


THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

KING  HENRY  VI 


ACT  FIRST 
Scene  I 

London.     The  imlace. 

Flourish  of  trumpets;  then  hautboys.  Enter,  the 
King,  Humphrey,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  Salis- 
bury, Warwick,  and  Cardinal  Beaufort,  on  the 
one  side;  The  Queen,  Suffolk,  York,  Somerset, 
and  Buckingham,  on  the  other. 

Suf.  As  by  your  high  imperial  majesty 

I  had  in  charge  at  my  depart  for  France, 
As  procurator  to  your  excellence, 
To  marry  Princess  Margaret  for  your  grace, 
So,  in  the  famous  ancient  city  Tours, 
In  presence  of  the  Kings  of  France  and  Sicil, 
The    Dukes    of    Orleans,    Calaber,    Bretagne 
and  Alen9on, 

1.  "As  by  your  hu/h,"  &c. ;  "The  Contention"  reads: — "As  by  your 
high  imperial  majesty's  command." — I.  G. 

7.  "and";  the  reading  of  F,  1;  Ff.  ^2,  3,  1,  omit  it.— I.  G. 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Seven  earls,  twelve  barons,  and  twenty  reverend 

bishops, 
I  have  perf orm'd  my  task  and  was  espoused : 
And  humbly  now  upon  my  bended  knee,         10 
In  sight  of  England  and  her  lordly  peers. 
Deliver  up  my  title  in  the  queen 
To  your  most  gracious  hands,  and  are  the  sub- 
stance 
Of  that  great  shadow  I  did  represent; 
The  happiest  gift  that  ever  marquess  gave. 
The  fairest  queen  that  ever  king  received. 
King.  Suffolk,     arise.     Welcome,     Queen     Mar- 
garet : 
I  can  express  no  kinder  sign  of  love 
Tlian  this  kind  kiss.     O  Lord,  that  lends  me 

life! 
Lend  me  a  heart  replete  with  thankfulness!    20 
For  Thou  hast  given  me  in  this  beauteous  face 
A  world  of  earthly  blessings  to  my  soul. 
If  sympathy  of  love  unite  our  thoughts. 
Queen.  Great  King  of  England  and  my  gracious 
lord. 
The  mutual  conference  that  my  mind  hath  had, 
By  day,  by  night,  waking  and  in  my  dreams, 
In  courtly  company  or  at  my  beads, 
With  you,  mine  alder-lie f est  sovereign. 
Makes  me  the  bolder  to  salute  my  king 
With  ruder  terms,  such  as  my  wit  affords       30 
And  over- joy  of  heart  doth  minister. 
King.  Her    sight    did   ravish;   but   her    grace  in 
speech, 

19.  "lends";  Rowe,  "lend'st."—!.  G. 

6 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

Her  words  y-clad  with  wisdom's  majesty, 
flakes  me  from  wondering   fall  to  w,eeping 

joys; 

Such  is  the  fulness  of  my  heart's  content. 
Lords,  with  one  cheerful  voice  welcome  my  love. 

All  [kneeling'].  Long  live  Queen  Margaret,  Eng- 
land's happiness! 

Queen.  We  thank  you  all.  [Flourish. 

Suff.  My  lord  protector,  so  it  please  your  grace, 
Here  ai*e  the  articles  of  contracted  peace        40 
Between  our  sovereign  and  the  French  king 

Charles, 
For  eighteen  months  concluded  by  consent. 

Glou.  [Beads]  'Imprimis,  It  is  agreed  between 
the  French  king  Charles  and  William  de  la 
Pole,  Marquess  of  Suffolk,  ambassador  for 
Henry  King  of  England,  that  the  said 
Henry  shall  espouse  the  Lady  Margaret, 
daughter  unto  Reignier  King  of  Naples, 
Sicilia  and  Jerusalem,  and  crown  her  Queen 
of  England  ere  the  thirtieth  of  JNIay  next  50 
ensuing.  Item,  that  the  duchy  of  Anjou 
and  the  county  of  INIaine  shall  be  released 
and  delivered  to  the  king  her  father — ' 

[Lets  the  paper  fall. 

King.  Uncle,  how  now! 

Glou.  Pardon  me,  gracious  lord; 

Some  sudden  qualm  hath  struck  me  at  the  heart, 
And  dimm'd  mine  eyes,  that  I  can  read  no  fur- 
ther. 

50.  ''duchy  of  Anjou  and  (he  county  of  Maine";  changed  by  Capell 
from  Qq.  to  "dutchies  of  Anjov,  and  Maine." — I.  G. 

7 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

King.  Uncle  of  Winchester,  I  pray,  read  on. 
Car.   [Reads]  'Item,  It  is  further  agreed  be- 
tween them,  that  the  duchies  of  Anjou  and 
Maine  shall  be  released  and  delivered  over  to 
the  king  of  her  father,  and  she  sent  over  of    60 
the  King  England's  own  proper  cost  and 
charges,  without  having  any  dow^y.' 
King.  They  please  us  well.     Lord  marquess,  kneel 
down : 
We  here  create  thee  the  first  duke  of  Suffolk, 
And    gird   thee    with   the    sword.     Cousin    of 

York, 
We  here  discharge  your  grace  from  being  re- 
gent 
I'  the  parts  of  France,  till  term  of  eighteen 

months 
Be  full  expired.     Thanks,  uncle  Winchester, 
Gloucester,  York,  Buckingham,  Somerset, 
Sahsbury,  and  Wai^wdck;  70 

We  thank  you  all  for  this  great  favor  done, 
In  entertainment  to  my  princely  queen. 
Come,  let  us  in,  and  with  all  speed  provide 
To  see  her  coronation  be  perform'd. 

[Exeunt  King,  Queen,  and  Suffolk. 

60.  Of  course  the  reader  will  observe  that  this  item  does  not  run 
the  same  as  it  did  in  the  hands  of  Gloster.  Malone  remarks,  that 
"the  words  of  the  instrument  could  not  thus  vary  whilst  it  was 
passing  from  the  hands  of  the  duke  to  those  of  the  cardinal." 
Doubtless  Gloster  had  caught  the  drift  and  substance  of  the  docu- 
ment, but  the  dimness  of  his  eyes  prevented  his  reading  with  literal 
exactness. — H.  N.  H. 

63,  "kneel  down";  Pope  reads  "kneel  you  down";  Keightley,  Col- 
lier MS.,  "kneel  thee  down."  Perhaps  "kneel"  is  to  be  read  as  a 
dissyllable. — I.  G. 

3 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

Glou.  Brave  peers  of  England,  pillars  of  the  state, 
To  you  Duke  Humphrey  must  unload  his  grief, 
Your  grief,  the  common  grief  of  all  the  land. 
What !  did  my  brother  Henry  spend  his  youth. 
His  valor,  coin,  and  people,  in  the  wars? 
Did  he  so  often  lodge  in  open  field,  80 

In  winter's  cold  and  summer's  parching  heat, 
To  conquer  France,  his  true  inheritance? 
And  did  my  brother  Bedford  toil  his  wits. 
To  keep  by  policy  what  Henry  got? 
Have  you  yourselves,  Somerset,  Buckingham, 
Brave  York,   Salisbury,  and  victorious  War- 
wick, 
Received  deep  scars  in  France  and  Normandy? 
Or  hath  mine  uncle  Beaufort  and  mvself, 
With  all  the  learned  council  of  the  reahn. 
Studied  so  long,  sat  in  the  council-house  90 

Early  and  late,  debating  to  and  fro 
How  France  and  Frenchmen  might  be  kept  in 

awe. 
And  had  his  highness  in  his  infancy 
Crowned  in  Paris  in  despite  of  foes? 
And  shall  these  labors  and  these  honors  die? 
Shall  Henry's  conquest,  Bedford's  vigilance. 
Your  deeds  of  war  and  all  our  counsel  die? 
O  peers  of  England,  shameful  is  this  league  I 
Fatal  this  marriage,  cancelling  your  fame, 
Blotting  your  names  from  books  of  memory, 

88.  "Beaufort";  Ff.  read  "Beauford";  Rowe,  "Bedford."— I.  G. 

93.  "And  had  his  highness  in  his  infancy  Crowned" ;  Grant  White's 
emendation  of  Ff.,  "And  hath  .  .  .  Crowned";  Rowe  reads  ''And 
was  .  .  .  Crowned";  Capell,  "Or  hath  .  .  .  Been  crown'd"; 
Malone,  "And  hath     .    .     .    Been  croicn'd." — I.  G. 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Razinff  the  characters  of  your  renown,  101 

Defacing  monuments  of  conquer'd  France, 
Undoing  all,  as  all  had  never  been! 

Car.  Nephew,    what    means    this    passionate    dis- 
course. 
This  peroration  with  such  circumstance? 
For  France,  'tis  ours ;  and  we  will  keep  it  still. 

GIou.  Aye,  uncle,  we  will  keep  it,  if  we  can; 
But  now  it  is  impossible  we  should: 
Suffolk,  the  new-made  duke  that  rules  the  roast, 
Hath  given  the  duchy  of  Anjou  and  Maine  HO 
Unto   the   poor    King   Reignier,    whose   large 

style 
Agrees  not  with  the  leanness  of  his  purse. 

Sal.  Now,  by  the  death  of  Him  that  died  for  all. 
These  counties  were  the  keys  of  Normandy. 
But  wherefore  weeps  Warwick,  mj'-  valiant  son  ? 

102.  "Defacing";  Capell  reads,  "Reversing,"  following  The  Conten- 
tion.— I.  G. 

105.  Thi§  speech  crowded  with  so  many  circumstances  of  aggra- 
vation.—H.  N.  H. 

109.  "Boast";  this  word,  spelled  rost  in  the  original,  ought  perhaps 
to  be  roost.  Hov/ever,  Richardson  explains  it,  "to  rule  the  roast,  as 
king  of  the  feast,  orderer,  purveyor,  president";  and  he  adds,  "or 
may  it  not  be  to  rule  the  roost,  an  expression  of  which  every  poultry- 
yard  would  supply  an  explanation?"  So  in  Bishop  Jewell's  Defence: 
"Geate  you  nowe  up  into  your  pulpets  like  bragginge  cockes  on  the 
roxvst,  flappe  your  whinges,  and  crowe  out  aloude."— H.  N.  H. 

115.  The  Salisbury  of  this  play  was  Richard  Nevil,  second  son 
to  Ralph  Nevil,  whom  we  have  often  met  with  in  former  plays 
as  earl  of  Westmoreland.  Richard  was  married  to  Alice,  the  only 
child  and  heir  of  Thomas  Montacute,  the  earl  of  Salisbury  who  was 
killed  at  the  siege  of  Orleans  in  14;28;  and  thus  brought  that  earldom 
into  the  Nevil  family.  His  oldest  son,  Richard,  again,  was  married 
to  Anne,  the  sister  and  heir  of  Henry  Beauchamp,  earl  of  War- 
wick, and  so  succeeded  to  that  earldom  in  1419.  Shakespeare,  though 
he  rightly  makes  Warwick  the  son  of  Salisbury,  attributes  to  him 
the  acts  of  Richard  Beauchamp,  the  earl  of  Warwick  who  figures 

10 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

War.  For  grief  that  they  are  past  recovery: 
For,  were  there  hope  to  conquer  them  again, 
My  sword  should  shed  hot  blood,  mine  eyes  no 

tears. 
Anjou  and  Maine!  myself  did  win  them  both; 
Those  provinces  these  arms  of  mine  did  con- 
quer :  120 
And  are  the  cities,  that  I  got  with  wounds, 
Deliver'd  up  again  with  peaceful  words? 
Mort  Dieu! 
York.  For  Suffolk's  duke,  may  he  be  suffocate. 
That  dims  the  honor  of  this  warlike  isle ! 
France   should  have  torn  and  rent  my  very 

heart, 
Before  I  would  have  yielded  to  this  league. 
I  never  read  but  England's  kings  have  had 
Large  sums  of  gold  and  dowries  with  their 

wives ; 
And  our  King  Henry  gives  away  his  own,     130 
To  match  with  her  that  brings  no  vantages. 
Glou.  A  proper  jest,  and  never  heard  before. 
That  Suffolk  should  demand  a  whole  fifteenth 
For  costs  and  charges  in  transporting  her  I 

in  the  preceding  play.  Perhaj)s  it  should  be  added  that  there  is 
the  same  confusion  in  the  quarto;  which  may  be  some  evidence  that 
Shakespeare  was  the  author  of  that. — H.  N.  H. 

133.  "fifteenth,"  i.  e.  of  the  personal  property  of  every  subject. — 
C.  H.  H. 

IS*.  So  in  Holinshed:  "First,  the  king  had  not  one  penie  with 
hir;  and  for  the  fetching  of  hir  the  marquesse  of  Suffolke  de- 
manded a  whole  fifteenth  in  open  parlement.  And  also  there  was 
delivered  for  hir  the  duchie  of  AnJou,  the  citie  of  Mans,  and  the 
whole  countie  of  Maine,  which  countries  were  the  verie  staies  and 
backestands  to  the  duchie  of  Normandie." — H.  N.  H. 


11 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

She  should  have  stay'd  in  France  and  starved  in 

France, 
Before — 

Car.  My  lord  of  Gloucester,  now  ye  grow  too  hot : 
It  was  the  pleasure  of  my  lord  the  king. 

Gloii.  My  lord  of  Winchester,  I  know  your  mind; 
'Tis  not  my  speeches  that  you  do  misiike,       140 
But  'tis  my  presence  that  doth  trouble  ye. 
Rancor  will  out :  proud  prelate,  in  thy  face 
I  see  thy  fury:  if  I  longer  stay, 
We  shall  begin  our  ancient  bickerings. 
Lordings,  farewell;  and  say,  when  I  am  gone, 
I  prophesied  France  will  be  lost  ere  long. 

[Exit 

Car.  So,  there  goes  our  protector  in  a  rage. 
'Tis  known  to  you  he  is  mine  enemy. 
Nay,  more,  an  enemy  unto  you  all. 
And  no  great  friend,  I  fear  me,  to  the  king. 
Consider,  lords,  he  is  the  next  of  blood,         151 
And  heir  apparent  to  the  English  crown : 
Had  Henry  got  an  empire  by  his  marriage, 
And  all  the  wealth}^  kingdoms  of  the  west. 
There  's  reason  he  should  be  displeased  at  it. 
Look  to  it,  lords ;  let  not  his  smoothing  words 
Bewitch  your  hearts;  be  wise  and  circumspect. 
What  though  the  common  people  favor  him. 
Calling  him   'Humphrey,  the   good  Duke   of 

Gloucester,' 
Clapping  their  hands,  and  crying  with  loud 
voice,  160 

'Jesus  maintain  your  royal  excellence!' 


12 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

With   'God   preserve   the   good   Duke    Hum- 
phrey !' 
I  fear  me,  lords,  for  all  tliis  flattering  gloss. 
He  will  be  found  a  dangerous  protector. 

Buck.  Why  should  he,  then,  protect  our  sovereign, 
He  being  of  age  to  govern  of  himself? 
Cousin  of  Somerset,  join  you  with  me, 
And  all  together,  with  the  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
We  '11  quickly  hoise  Duke  Humphrey  from  his 
seat.  169 

Car.  This  weighty  business  will  not  brook  delay ; 
I  '11  to  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  presently.     [E.viL 

Som.  Cousin  of  Buckingham,  though  Humphrey's 
pride 
And  greatness  of  his  place  be  grief  to  us, 
Yet  let  us  watch  the  haughty  cardinal: 
His  insolence  is  more  intolerable 
Than  all  the  princes  in  the  land  beside: 
If  Gloucester  be  displaced,  he  '11  be  protector. 

B^ick.  Or  thou  or  I,  Somerset,  will  be  protector, 
Despite  Duke  Humphrey  or  the  cardinal, 

[Evveimt  Buckingham  and  Somerset. 

Sal.  Pride  went  before,  ambition  follows  him.    180 
While  these  do  labor  for  their  own  perferment, 
Behooves  it  us  to  labor  for  the  realm. 
I  never  saw  but  Humphrey  Duke  of  Glouces- 
ter 
Did  bear  him  like  a  noble  gentleman. 
Oft  have  I  seen  the  haughty  cardinal. 
More  like  a  soldier  than  a  man  o'  the  church, 
As  stout  and  proud  as  he  were  lord  of  all, 
Swear  like  a  ruffian,  and  demean  himself 

13 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Unlike  the  ruler  of  a  commonweal. 
Warwick,  my  son,  the  comfort  of  my  age,    190 
Thy  deeds,  thy  plainness,  and  thy  housekeep- 
ing, 
Hath  won  the  greatest  favor  of  the  commons, 
Excepting  none  but  good  Duke  Humphrey: 
And,  brother  York,  thy  acts  in  Ireland, 
In  bringing  them  to  civil  discipline, 
Thy  late  exploits  done  in  the  heart  of  France, 
When  thou  wert  regent  for  our  sovereign, 
Have  made  thee  f  ear'd  and  honored  of  the  peo- 
ple: 
Join  we  together,  for  the  public  good. 
In  what  we  can,  to  bridle  and  suppress         200 
The  pride  of  Suffolk  and  the  cardinal. 
With  Somerset's  and  Buckingham's  ambition: 
And,  as  we  may,  cherish  Duke  Humphrey's 

deeds. 
While  they  do  tend  the  profit  of  the  land. 
War.  So  God  help  Warwick,  as  he  loves  the  land, 

And  common  profit  of  his  country! 
York.  [Asidel  And  so  says  York,   for  he  hath 
greatest  cause. 

194.  The  present  duke  of  York  married  Cicely,  daughter  to  Ralph 
Nevil,  earl  of  Westmoreland,  by  Joan  his  first  wife,  who,  again, 
was  daughter  to  John  of  Ghent  by  Catharine  Swynford.  Salisbury 
was  the  son  of  Westmoreland  by  a  second  wife.  Of  course  there- 
fore York's  wife  was  half-sister  to  the  earl  of  Salisbury. — The  Poet 
here  anticipates.  York,  having  been  appointed  to  the  regency  of 
France  a  second  time,  was  forced  to  give  up  that  place  to  his  rival, 
Somerset,  and  accept  the  government  of  Ireland  instead;  from  which 
latter  country  he  did  not  return  till  1450,  more  than  three  years 
ifter  the  death  of  Cardinal  Beaufort.— H.  N.  H. 


14 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Sal.  Then  let 's  make  haste  away,  and  look  unto  the 

main. 
War.  Unto  the  main!     O  father,  :Maine  is  lost: 

That  Maine  which  by  main  force  ^Varwick  did 

210 
wm,  "^^^ 

And  ^\ould  have  kept  so  long  as  breath  did 

last! 
Main  chance,  father,  you  meant;  but  I  meant 

Maine, 
Which  I  will  win  from  France,  or  else  be  slain, 
[Exeunt  Warwick  and  Salisbury. 
York.  Anjou  and  jNIaine  are  given  to  the  French; 
Paris  is  lost;  the  state  of  Normandy 
Stands  on  a  tickle  point,  now  they  are  gone : 
Suffolk  concluded  on  the  articles, 
The  peers  agreed,  and  Henry  was  well  pleased 
To  change  two  dukedoms  for  a  duke's  fair 

daughter. 
I  cannot  blame  them  aU:  what  is  't  to  them?  220 
'Tis  thine  they  give  away,  and  not  their  own. 
Pirates  may  make  cheap  pennyworths  of  their 

pillage, 
And  purchase  friends  and  give  to  courtezans, 
Still  reveling  like  lords  till  all  be  gone; 
While  as  the  silly  owner  of  the  goods 
Weeps  over  them  and  wrings  his  hapless  hands, 
And  shakes  his  head  and  trembling  stands  aloof. 
While  all  is  shared  and  all  is  borne  away. 
Ready  to  starve  and  dare  not  touch  his  own : 
So    York    must    sit    and    fret    and    bite    his 

tongue,  "-'^^ 

While  his  own  lands  are  bargain'd  for  and  sold. 

15 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

IMethinks  the  realms  of  England,  France  and 

Ireland 
Bear  that  proportion  to  my  flesh  and  Wood 
As  did  the  fatal  brand  Alth^a  burn'd 
Unto  the  prince's  heart  of  Calydon. 
Anjou  and  Elaine  both  given  unto  the  French  1 
Cold  news  for  me,  for  I  had  hope  of  France, 
Even  as  I  have  of  fertile  England's  soil. 
A  day  will  come  when  York  shall  claim  his  own ; 
And  therefore  I  will  take  the  Nevils'  parts  240 
And  make  a  show  of  love  to  proud  Duke  Hum- 
phrey, 
And,  when  I  spy  advantage,  claim  the  crown, 
For  that 's  the  golden  mark  I  seek  to  hit : 
Nor  shall  proud  Lancaster  usurp  my  right. 
Nor  hold  the  scepter  in  his  childish  fist, 
Nor  wear  the  diadem  upon  his  head. 
Whose  church-like  humors  fits  not  for  a  crown. 
Then,  York,  be  still  awhile,  till  time  do  serve: 
Watch  thou  and  wake  when  others  be  asleep, 
To  pry  into  the  secrets  of  the  state;  250 

Till  Henry,  surfeiting  in  joys  of  love, 
With  his  new  bride  and  England's  dear-bought 

queen, 
And  Humphrey  with  the  peers  be  fall'n  at 

jars: 
Then  will  I  raise  aloft  the  milk-white  rose, 

232  et  seq.  Meleager,  prince  of  Calydon,  was  doomed  to  perish 
when  the  "fatal  brand"  was  burned,  as  it  finally  was  by  his  mother 
Althaea.  York's  life  similarly  hangs  upon  the  preservation  of  the 
realm  intact. — C.  H.  H. 

247.  "humors  fits";  so  Ff.,  Qq.;  Rowe  reads  "humor  fits";  Malone, 
"humors  fit."— I.  G. 

16 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  iL 

With  whose  sweet  smell  the  air  shall  be  per- 
fumed; 

And  ill  my  standard  hear  the  arms  of  York, 

To  grapple  witli  the  house  of  Lancaster; 

And,  force  perforce,  I  '11  make  him  yield  the 
crown. 

Whose  bookish  rule  hath  pull'd  fair  England 
down.  \_EtVit. 


Scene  II 

The  Duke  of  Gloucester  s  house. 

Enter  Duke  Humiihrey  and  his  xdfe  Eleanor. 

Duch.  Why  droops  my  lord,  like  over-ripen'd 
corn, 

1.  The  present  duchess  of  Gloster  was  Eleanor,  daughter  to 
Reginald  lord  Cobham.  The  duke  had  formerly  li%'ed  on  such  terms 
with  Jacqueline  of  Bavaria,  that  she  was  connnonly  supposed  to  be 
l)is  wife;  but,  as  she  already  had  a  husband,  John  duke  of  Brabant, 
from  whose  claim  she  could  not  get  a  legal  release,  her  union  with 
Gloster  was  obliged  to  be  broken  off.  Meanwhile,  the  duke  had  been 
openly  living  with  Eleanor  Cobham  as  his  mistress,  insomuch  that  in 
1428  the  principal  matrons  of  London  went  to  the  House  of  Lords 
with  a  petition  against  him  for  having  neglected  his  lawful  wife. 
Ivingard  says,— "The  beauty  of  Eleanor  was  as  distinguished  as  her 
morftls  were  dissolute.  After  contributing  to  the  pleasures  of  differ- 
ent noblemen,  she  became  acquainted  with  the  duke,  whose  attach- 
ment to  her  was  so  great,  that  even  after  his  union  with  Jacqueline 
he  kept  her  always  near  his  person.  What  answer  was  returned  to 
the  petition  is  not  known;  but  the  duke  soon  afterwards,  to  the  sur- 
prise of  Europe,  publicly  acknowledged  Cobham  for  his  wife."  The 
marriage  legitimated  their  union  indeed,  but  did  not  make  her  char- 
acter clean  in  the  public  eye;  and  the  pride,  avarice,  and  licentious- 
ness of  Dame  Eleanor,  as  she  was  called,  finally  led  to  her  ruin. — 
H.  N.  H. 


17 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Hanging  the  head  at  Ceres'  plenteous  load? 
Why  doth  the  great  Duke  Humphrey  knit  liis 

brows, 
As  frowning  at  the  favors  of  the  world? 
Why  are  thine  eyes  fix'd  to  the  sullen  earth, 
Gazing  on  that  which  seems  to  dim  thy  sight? 
What  seest  thou  there?     King  Henry's  diadem, 
Enchased  with  all  the  honors  of  the  world? 
If  so,  gaze  on,  and  grovel  on  thy  face, 
Until  thy  head  be  circled  with  the  same.  10 

Put  forth  thy  hand,  reach  at  the  glorious  gold. 
What,  is  't  too  short?     I  '11  lengthen  it  with 

mine; 
And,  having  both  together  heaved  it  up. 
We  '11  both  together  lift  our  heads  to  heaven, 
And  never  more  abase  our  sight  so  low 
As  to  vouchsafe  one  glance  unto  the  ground. 
Glou,  O  Nell,  sweet  Nell,  if  thou  dost  love  thy  lord^ 
Banish  the  canker  of  ambitious  thoughts. 
And  may  that  thought,  when  I  imagine  ill 
Against  my  king  and  nephew,  virtuous  Henry, 
Be  my  last  breathing  in  this  mortal  world!    21 
My  troublous  dream  this  night  doth  make  me 

sad. 
Duch.  What  dream'd  my  lord?  tell  me,  and  I  '11 

requite  it 
With  sweet  rehearsal  of  my  morning's  dream. 
Glou.  Methought  this  staff,  mine  office-badge  in 

court. 
Was  broke  in  twain ;  by  whom  I  have  forgot, 

22.  "My  troublous  dream  this  night  doth  make  me  sad";  Capell's 
emendation  of  Ff.,  "My  troublous  dreames    ,     .     .     doth,"  &c.— I.  G. 

18 


KING  HENRV  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

But,  as  I  think,  it  was  by  the  cardinal ; 
And  on  the  pieces  of  the  broken  wand 
Were  placed  the  heads  of  Edmund  Duke  of 

Somerset, 
And  ^Villiam  de  la  Pole,  first  Duke  of  Suffolk. 
This  my  dream:  what  it  doth  bode,  God 

knows.  31 

Diicli.  Tut,  this  was  nothing  but  an  argument. 
That  he  that  breaks  a  stick  of  Gloucester's 

grove 
Shall  lose  his  head  for  his  presumption. 
But  list  to  me,  my  Humphrey,  my  sweet  duke: 
Methought  I  sat  in  seat  of  majesty. 
In  the  cathedral  church  of  Westminster, 
And  in  that  chair  where  kings  and  queens  are 

crown'd ; 
Where  Henry  and  dame  JMargaret  kneel'd  to 

me, 
And  on  my  head  did  set  the  diadem.  40 

Glou.  Nay,  Eleanor,  then  must  I  chide  outright: 
Presumptuous  dame,  ill-natured  Eleanor, 
Art  thou  not  second  woman  in  the  realm 
And  the  protector's  wife,  beloved  of  him? 
Hast  thou  not  worldly  pleasure  at  command, 
Above  the  reach  or  compass  of  thy  thought? 
And  wilt  thou  still  be  hammering  treachery. 
To  tumble  down  thy  husband  and  thyself 
From  top  of  honor  to  disgrace's  feet? 
Away  from  me,  and  let  me  hear  no  more !      50 

38.  "And  in  that  chair  where  kintjs  and  queens  are  crown'd"; 
"are,"  Hanmer's  correction  from  Qq.;  Ff.  1,  2,  read,  "wer";  Ff.  3, 
4,  "were."— I.  G. 

19 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Duch.  What,  what,  my  lord!  are  you  so  choleric 
With  Eleanor,  for  telling  but  her  dream? 
Next  time  I  '11  keep  my  dreams  unto  myself, 
And  not  be  check'd. 

Glou.  Nay,  be  not  angry;  I  am  pleased  again. 

Enter  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord  protector,  'tis  his  highness'  pleasure 
You  do  prepare  to  ride  unto  Saint  Alban's, 
Where  as  the  king  and  queen  do  mean  to  hawk. 

Glou.  I  go.    Come,  Nell,  thou  wilt  ride  with  us? 

Duch.  Yes,  my  good  lord,  I  '11  follow  presently.  60 
[Exeunt  Gloucester  and  Messenger. 
Follow  I  must ;  I  cannot  go  before. 
While  Gloucester  bears  this  base  and  humble 

mind. 
Were  I  a  man,  a  duke,  and  next  of  blood, 
I  would  remove  these  tedious  stumbling-blocks 
And  smooth  my  way  upon  their  headless  necks ; 
And,  being  a  woman,  I  will  not  be  slack 
To  play  my  part  in  Fortune's  pageant. 
Where  are  you  there?  Sir  John!  nay,  fear  not, 

man, 
We  are  alone;  here  's  none  but  thee  and  I. 

Enter  Hume. 

Hume.  Jesus  preserve  your  royal  majesty!  '^^ 

Duch.  What  say'st  thou?  majesty!  I  am  but  grace. 

59.  "thou  wilt  ride  with  us";  Dyce,  from  Qq.,  "thou'lt  ride  with 
vs,  I'm  sure";  Hanmer,  "thou  too  wilt  ride  ivith  vs";  Vaughan,  "thou; 
thou  wilt  ride  with  us." — I.  G. 

68.  "Sir  John,"  that  is,  Sir  John  Hume.— H.  N.  H. 

71.  "What  say'st   thou?   majesty!";   Capell   reads    from  Qq.,  "My 

20 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Hume.  But,  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  Hume's 
advice, 
Your  grace's  title  shall  be  multi2)lied. 
Duch.  What  say'st  thou,  man?  hast  thou  as  yet 
con  f  err 'd 
With  JNIargery  Jourdain,  the  cunning  witch, 
"With  Roger  Bolingbroke,  the  conjurer? 
And  will  they  undertake  to  do  me  good  ? 
Hiivie.  This  they  have  promised,  to  show  your 
highness 
A  spirit  raised  from  depth  of  under-ground. 
That  shall  make  answer  to  such  questions  80 
As  by  your  grace  shall  be  propounded  him. 
Duch.  It  is  enough;  I  '11  think  upon  the  questions: 
"When  from  Saint  Alban's  we  do  make  return. 
We  '11  see  these  things  effected  to  the  full. 
Here,  Hume,  take  this  reward;  make  merry, 

man, 
"With  thy  confederates  in  this  weighty  cause. 

[Ejcit. 
Hume.  Hume  must  make  merry  with  the  duchess' 
gold; 
JNIarry,  and  shall.     But,  how  now,  Sir  John 

Hume! 
Seal  up  your  lips  and  give  no  words  but  mum: 
The  business  asketh  silent  secrecy.  90 

Dame  Eleanor  gives  gold  to  bring  the  witch: 
Gold  cannot  come  amiss,  were  she  a  devil. 
Yet  have  I  gold  flies  from  another  coast; 

majesty!  ivhy,  man";  Vaughan,  "What  say'nt  thou,  'Majesty'?"  Sec— 
I.  G. 


21 


Act.  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

I  dare  not  sav,  from  the  rich  cardinal, 

And  from  the  great  and  new-made  Duke  of 

Suffolk, 
Yet  I  do  lind  it  so ;  for,  to  be  plain, 
They,  Imowing  Dame  Eleanor's  aspiring 

humor. 
Have  hired  me  to  undermine  the  duchess. 
And  buz  these  conjurations  in  her  brain. 
They  say  'A  crafty  knave  does  need  no  broker ;' 
Yet  am  I  Suffolk  and  the  cardinal's  broker.  101 
Hume,  if  you  take  not  heed,  you  shall  go  near 
To  call  them  both  a  pair  of  crafty  knaves. 
Well,  so  it  stands;  and  thus,  I  fear,  at  last 
Hume's  knavery  will  be  the  duchess'  wreck, 
And  her  attainture  will  be  Humphrey's  fall : 
Sort  how  it  will,  I  shall  have  gold  for  all.  \ExiU 


Scene  III 

The  'palace, 

'Enter  three  or  four  Petitioners,  Peter,  the  Ar' 
morers  man,  being  one. 

First  Petit.  My  masters,  let 's  stand  close :  my 
lord  protector  will  come  this  way  by  and  by, 

100.  "A  crafty  knave  does  need  no  broker";  an  old  proverb  given 
in  Ray's  collection. — I.  G. 

107.  That  is,  let  it  happen,  or  be  allotted,  as  it  will;  to  sort  being 
formerly  used  for  to  take  or  give  by  lot. — H.  N.  H. 

22 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  I.  Sc.  ttL 

and  then  we  may  deliver  our  supplications 
in  the  quill. 
Sec.  Petit.  ^larry,  the  Lord  protect  him,  for 
he  's  a  good  man!     Jesu  bless  him! 

Ent&r  Suffolk  and  Queen. 

Peter.  Here  a'  comes,  methinks,  and  the  queen 

M'ith  him.     I  '11  be  the  first,  sure. 
Sec.  Petit.  Come  back,  fool;  this  is  the  Duke 

of  Suffolk,  and  not  my  lord  protector.  ^^ 

Suf.  How    now,    fellow!    wouldst    an}^    thing 

with  me? 
First  Petit.  I  j^ray,  my  lord,  pardon  me :  I  took 

ye  for  my  lord  protector. 
Queen.  [Reading.]    'To  my  Lord  Protector!' 

your  supplications  to  his  lordship?     Let  me 

see  them:  what  is  thine? 
First  Petit.  Mine  is,  an  't  please  your  grace, 

against  John  Goodman,  my  lord  cardinal's 

4.  "In  the  quiU";  Hanmer,  "in  quiU";  Jackson,  "in  quiet";  Singer, 
"in  the  coil";  Collier  MS.,  "in  sequel"  &c.  In  Ainsworth's  Latin 
Dictionary,  1761,  the  phrase  is  rendered,  "ex  compacto  agunt."  Hal- 
liwell  and  others  explain  it  also  as  "all  together  in  a  body."  This 
interpretation  is  borne  out  by  a  passage  in  The  Devonshire  Damsel's 
Frolic,  one  of  the  Songs  and  Sonnets  in  the  collection  called  Choyce 
Drollery,  &c.  (1656):— 

"Thus  those   females  were  all  in  a  quill 
And  following  on  their  pastimes  still'." 

No  satisfactory  explanation  has  yet  been  given  of  the  origin  of  the 
phrase.  The  following  solution  is  suggested: — "the  quill"  I  take  to 
be  a  popular  elaboration  of  the  more  correct  phrase  "a  quill,"  which 
occurs  in  the  bnllad  quoted;  the  latter  seems  to  be  a  corruption  of 
French  accueil,  O.  F.  acueil,  acoil,  akel,  achoil,  &c.,  "a  gathering 
together."  It  is  noteworthy  that  a  verb  "aquyle"  occurs  in  one  pas- 
sage in  Middle  English,  where  in  all  probability  it  is  the  English 
form  of  the  verb  "accneillir." — I.  G. 

23 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

man,  for  keeping  my  house  and  lands,  and   20 

wife  and  all,  from  me. 
Suf.  Thy  wife  too!  that 's  some  wrong,  indeed. 

What's    yours?    What's    here!     [Reads'] 

'Against  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  for  enclosing 

the  coimnons  of  JSIelford.'     How  now,  sir 

knave ! 
Sec.  Petit.  Alas,  sir,  I  am  but  a  poor  petitioner 

of  our  whole  township. 
Peter,     [giving     his     petition.]     Against  my 

master,  Thomas  Horner,  for  saying  that  the   30 

Duke   of   York   was   rightful   heir   to  the 

crown. 
Queen.  What  say'st  thou?   did  the  Duke  of 

York  say  he  was  rightful  heir  to  the  crown? 
Peter.  That  my  master  was?  no,  for  sooth:  my 

master  said  that  he  was,  and  that  the  king 

was  an  usurper. 
Suf.  Who   is   there?    [Enter  Servant.]    Take 

this  fellow  in,  and  send  for  his  master  with 

29-37.  This  passage  is  something  dlflfereiit  in  the  quarto,  and  ma' 
be  thought  not  to  have  been  bettered  by  the  change: 

"Peier.  Marry,  sir,  I  come  to  tell  you,  that  my  master  said  that 
the  duke  of  York  was  true  heir  to  the  crown,  and  that  the  king  was 
an  usurer. 

"Qneen.  An  usurper  thou  would'st  say. 

"Peter.  Ay,  forsooth,  an  usurper. 

"Queen.  Didst  thou  say  the  king  was  an  usurper? 

"Peter.  No,  forsooth;  I  said  my  master  said  so,  the  other  day, 
when  we  were  scouring  the  duke  of  York's  armor  in  our  garret.'— 
H.  N.  H. 

35.  "master  was";  Warburton's  emendation  of  Ff.,  "mistress  was." 
—I.  G. 

36.  "Who  is   there?"  a  summons  to   attendants  waiting  without.— 

C.  H.  H. 


24 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  i.  Sc.  Ui. 

A  pursuivant  presently:  we  '11  hear  more  of   40 
your  matter  before  the  king. 

[Ej^^it  Servant  with  Peter. 

Queen.  And  as  for  you,  that  love  to  be  protected 
Under  the  wings  of  our  protector's  grace, 
Begin  your  suits  anew,  and  sue  to  him. 

[IV'ars  the  supplications. 
Away,  base  cullions!     Suffolk,  let  them  go. 

All.  Come,  let 's  be  gone.  [E.vennt. 

Queen.  My  Lord  of  Suffolk,  say,  is  this  the  guise, 
Is  this  the  fashion  in  the  court  of  England? 
Is  this  the  government  of  Britain's  isle. 
And  this  the  royalty  of  Albion's  king?  50 

What,  shall  King  Henry  be  a  pupil  still 
Under  the  surly  Gloucester's  goverance: 
Am  I  a  queen  in  title  and  in  style, 
And  must  be  made  a  subject  to  a  duke? 
I  tell  thee,  Pole,  when  in  the  city  Tours 
Thou  ran'st  a  tilt  in  honor  of  my  love. 
And  stolest  away  the  ladies'  hearts  of  France, 
I  thought  King  Henry  had  resembled  thee 
In  courage,  courtship  and  proportion: 
But  all  his  mind  is  bent  to  holiness,  60 

To  number  Ave-]Maries  on  his  beads; 
His  champions  are  the  prophets  and  apostles, 
His  weapons  holy  saws  of  sacred  writ, 
His  study  is  his  tilt-vard,  and  his  loves 
Are  brazen  images  of  canonized  saints. 
I  wovdd  the  college  of  the  cardinals 
Would  chose  him  pope  and  carry  him  to  Rome, 
And  set  the  triple  crown  upon  his  head : 
That  were  a  state  fit  for  his  lioliness. 

Shk-l-21  25 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Suf.  Madam,  be  patient:  as  I  was  cause  70 

Your  highness  came  to  England,  so  will  I 
In  England  work  your  grace's  full  content. 

Queen.  Beside  the  haughty  protector,  have  we 
Beaufort, 
The  imperious  churchman,  Somerset,  Bucking- 
ham, 
And  grumbling  York;  and  not  the  least  of  these 
But  can  do  more  in  England  than  the  king. 

Suf.  And  he  of  these  that  can  do  most  of  all 
Cannot  do  more  in  England  than  the  Nevils. 
Salisbury  and  Warwick  are  no  simple  peers. 

Queen.  Not  all  these  lords  do  vex  me  half  so  much 

As  that  proud  dame,  the  lord  protector's  wife. 

She  sweeps  it  through  the  court  with  troops  of 

ladies,  82 

More  like  an  empress  than  Duke  Humphrey's 

wife: 
Strangers  in  court  do  take  her  for  the  queen : 
She  bears  a  duke's  revenues  on  her  back, 
And  in  her  heart  she  scorns  our  poverty: 
Shall  I  not  live  to  be  avenged  on  her? 
Contemptuous  base-born  callet  as  she  is, 
She  vaunted  'mongst  her  minions  t'  other  day, 
The  very  train  of  her  worst  wearing  gown      90 
Was  better  worth  than  all  my  father's  lands. 
Till  Suffolk  gave  two  dukedoms  for  his  daugh- 
ter. 

Suf.  Madam,  myself  have  limed  a  bush  for  her, 

73.  "haughty";  probably  an  error  for  "haught,"  the  reading  of  Ff. 
3,  3,  4;  Pope,  "proud."— I.  G. 

93.  Referring  to  the  ancient  use  of  Wme^  or,  as  it  is  sometimes 

26 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

And  placed  a  quire  of  such  enticing  birds, 
That  she  will  light  to  listen  to  the  lays, 
And  never  mount  to  trouble  you  again. 
So,  let  her  rest:  and,  madam,  list  to  me; 
For  I  am  bold  to  counsel  you  in  this. 
Althougli  we  fancy  not  the  cardinal. 
Yet  must  we  join  with  him  and  with  the  lords,100 
Till  we  have  brought  Duke  Humphrey  in  dis- 
grace. 
As  for  the  Duke  of  York,  this  late  complaint 
Will  make  but  little  for  his  benefit. 
So,  one  by  one,  we  '11  weed  them  all  at  last, 
And  you  yourself  shall  steer  the  happy  helm. 

Sound  a  Sennet.  .'Enter  the  King,  Duke  Hum- 
2)lirey  of  Gloucester,  Cardinal  Beaufort,  Buck- 
ingham, York,  Somerset,  Salisbury,  Warwick, 
and  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester. 

King.  For  my  part,  noble  lords,  I  care  not  which; 

Or  Somerset  or  York,  all 's  one  to  me. 
Vork.  If  York  have   ill   demean'd  himself  in 
France, 

Then  let  him  be  denay'd  the  regentship. 
Som.  If  Somerset  be  unworthy  of  the  place,      HO 

Let  York  be  regent ;  I  will  yield  to  him. 
War.  Whether  your  grace  be  worthy,  yea  or  no. 

Dispute  not  that:  York  is  the  worthier. 
Car.  Ambitious  Warwick,  let  thy  betters  speak. 

called,   birdlime,   which   was   a   sticky   sxibstance   spread   upon    twigs 
and  Inishes  to  catch  birds  with;  hence  put  fisruratively  for  any  kind 
of  a  snare.     So  this  same  passage  in  the  original  play:    "I  have  set 
lime-twigs  that  will  entangle  them." — H.  N.  H. 
95.  "to  the  lays";  Rowe,  "their  lays."— I.  G. 

27 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Wa7'.  The  cardinal 's  not  my  better  in  the  field. 
Buck,  All  in  this  presence  are  thy  betters,  War- 
wick. 
Wa7\  Warwick  may  live  to  be  the  best  of  all. 
Sal.  Peace,  son!  and  show  some  reason,  Bucking- 
ham, 
Why  Somerset  should  be  preferr'd  in  this. 
Queen.  Because  the  king,  forsooth,  will  have  it  so. 
Glou.  Madam,  the  king  is  old  enough  himself    121 
To  give  his  censure:  these  are  no  women's  mat- 
ters. 
Queen.  If  he  be  old   enough,   what  needs  your 
grace 
To  be  protector  of  his  excellence? 
Glou.  Madam,  I  am  protector  of  the  realm; 

And,  at  his  pleasure,  will  resign  my  place. 
Suf.  Resign  it  then  and  leave  thine  insolence. 

Since   thou   wert   king — as   who   is   king   but 

thou  ? — 
The  commonwealth  hath  daily  run  to  wreck ; 
The  Dauphin  hath  prevail'd  beyond  the  seas;  130 
Aiid  all  the  peers  and  nobles  of  the  realm 
Have  been  as  bondmen  to  thy  sovereignty. 
Car,  The  commons  hast  thou  rack'd;  the  clergy's 
bags 
Are  lank  and  lean  with  thy  extortions. 
Som,  Thy  sumptuous  buildings  and  thy  wife's  at- 
tire 
Have  cost  a  mass  of  public  treasury. 
Buck.  Thy  cruelty  in  execution 

Upon  offenders  hath  exceeded  law, 

28 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  i.  Sc.  Hi. 

And  left  thee  to  the  mercy  of  the  law. 
Queen.  Thy  sale  of  offices  and  towns  in  France,  140 
If  they  were  known,  as  the  suspect  is  great, 
Would    make   thee    quickly    hop    without    thy 
head. 
[E.rit  Gloucester.     The  Queen  drops  her  fan. 
Give  me  my  fan:  what,  minion!  can  ye  not? 

[She  gives  the  Duchess  a  box  on  the  ear. 
I  cry  you  mercy,  madam ;  was  it  you  ? 
Duch.  Was 't   I !  yea,   I   it  was,   proud   French- 
woman : 
Could  I  come  near  your  beauty  with  my  nails, 
I  'Id  set  my  ten  commandments  in  your  face. 
King.  Sweet  aunt,  be  quiet ;  'twas  against  her  will. 
Duch.  Against  her  will!  good  king,  look  to 't  in 
time ; 
She  '11  hamper  thee,  and  dandle  thee  like  a  baby: 
Though   in   this   place   most  master   wear   no 
breeches,  151 

139.  The  groundwork  of  these  charges  on  the  duke  is  thus  stated 
in  Holinshed:  "The  queene,  a  ladie  of  great  wit,  and  no  lesse 
coura<>;e,  desirous  of  honor,  and  furnished  with  the  gifts  of  rea- 
son, policie,  and  wisdome,  disdaining  that  hir  liusband  should  be 
riilcd  rather  than  rule,  first  of  all  excluded  the  duke  of  Glocester 
from  all  rule  and  governance,  not  prohibiting  such  as  she  knew  to 
be'  his  mortal  foes  to  invent  and  imagine  causes  and  grcefs  against 
him  and  his,  insomuch  that  diverse  noblemen  conspired  against  him. 
Diverse  articles  were  laid  against  him  in  open  councell,  and  es- 
peciallie  one, — That  he  had  caused  men,  adjudged  to  die,  to  be  put 
to  other  execution  than  the  law  of  the  land  assigned."' — H.  N.  H. 

145.  "ten  commandments";  ten  fingers;  a  cant  phrase  of  the  time. 
— C.  H.  H. 

151.  "most  master  wear";  "master"  Halliwell,  "masters";  "wear," 
so  F.  1 ;  Ff.  0,  3,  4,  "wears,"  "most  master"=='the  one  who  is  most 
master,"  i.  e.  "the  queen." — I.  G. 


29 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

She  shall  not  strike  Dame  Eleanor  unrevenged. 

[Exit. 
Buck.  Lord  cardinal,  I  will  follow  Eleanor, 

And  listen  after  Humphrey,  how  he  proceeds: 
She  's  tickled  now ;  her  fume  needs  no  spurs, 
She  '11  gallop  far  enough  to  her  destruction. 

lEouit 

Re-enter  Gloucester. 

GIou.  Now,  lords,  my  choler  being  over-blown 
With  walking  once  about  the  quadrangle, 
I  come  to  talk  of  commonwealth  affairs. 
As  for  j^our  spiteful  false  objections,  160 

Prove  them,  and  I  lie  open  to  the  law: 
But  God  in  mercy  so  deal  with  mj^  soul. 
As  I  in  duty  love  my  king  and  country! 
But,  to  the  matter  that  we  have  in  hand: 
I  say,  my  sovereign,  York  is  meetest  man 
To  be  your  regent  in  the  realm  of  France. 

Suf.  Before  we  make  election,  give  me  leave 
To  show  some  reason,  of  no  little  force. 
That  York  is  most  unmeet  of  any  man. 

York.    I  '11  tell  thee,  Suffolk,  why  I  am  unmeet :  170 
First,  for  I  cannot  flatter  thee  in  pride ; 
Next,  if  I  be  appointed  for  the  place, 

153.  This  tilting-match  of  female  spite  is  altogether  fictitious;  but 
it  sets  forth  not  unaptly  the  character  of  these  two  women.  The 
fact  is,  the  duchess  and  queen  never  met,  the  former  having  been 
put  to  incurable  disgrace  in  November,  1441,  and  the  latter  not  hav- 
ing landed  in  England  till  May,  1445. — H.  N.  H. 

155.  ''fume  needs";  Grant  Vv'liite  (Dyce  and  Walker  conj.)  "ftiry," 
which  seems  a  most  plausible  emendation;  "needs,"  the  reading  of  F. 
1;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "can  need";  Keightley,  "needs  now."— I.  G. 

156.  "far";  Pope  reads  "fast,"  adopted  by  many  editors. — I.  G. 

30 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  i.  Sc.  m. 

]My  Lord  of  Somerset  will  keep  me  here, 
Without  discharge,  money,  or  furniture, 
Till  France  be  won  into  the  Dauphin's  hands: 
Last  time,  I  danced  attendance  on  his  will 
Till  Paris  was  besieged,  famish'd,  and  lost. 
Wa7\  That  can  I  witness;  and  a  fouler  fact 

Did  never  traitor  in  the  land  commit. 
Suf.  Peace,  headstrong  Warwick!  180 

IVar.  Image   of   pride,   why   should   I   hold   my 
peace  ? 

Enter  Horner ^  the  Armorer,  and  his  man 
Peter,  guarded. 

Suf.  Because  here  is  a  man  accused  of  treason: 
Pray  God  the  Duke  of  York  excuse  himself! 

York.  IDoth  any  one  accuse  York  for  a  traitor? 

King.  What  mean'st  thou,  Suffolk?  tell  me,  what 
are  these? 

Suf.  Please  it  your  majesty,  this  is  the  man 
That  doth  accuse  his  master  of  high  treason : 
His  words  were  these:  that  Richard  Duke  of 

York 
Was  rightful  heir  unto  the  English  crown, 
Aiid  that  your  majesty  was  an  usurper.       190 

177.  The  issue  of  this  deadly  feud  hetween  York  and  Somerset 
is  thus  related  by  Holinshed:  "But  the  duke  of  Suiuinerset,  still 
maligning  the  duke  of  Yorkes  advancement,  as  he  had  sought  to 
hinder  his  dispatch  at  the  first  when  he  was  sent  over  to  the  regent, 
likewise  now  wrought  so,  that  the  king  revoked  the  grant  made  to 
the  duke  of  Yorke  for  enjoieng  of  that  office  the  terme  of  other  five 
yeeres,  and  with  helpe  of  William  marquesse  of  SufFolke  obteined 
that  grant  for  himselfe.  Which  malicious  deling  the  duke  of  Yorke 
might  so  evil!  beare,  that  in  the  end  the  heate  of  displeasure  burst 
out  into  such  a  flame,  as  consumed  at  length  not  onelie  both  those 
two  noble  personages,  but  also  manie  thousands  of  others." — H.  N.  H. 

31 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

King.  Say,  man,  were  these  thy  words? 

Hor.  An  't  shall  please  your  majesty,  I  never 
said  nor  thought  any  such  matter:  God  is 
my  witness,  I  am  falsely  accused  by  the  vil- 
lain. 

Pet.  By  these  ten  bones,  my  lords,  he  did  speak 
them  to  me  in  the  garret  one  night,  as  we 
were  scouring  my  Lord  of  York's  armor. 

York.  Base  dunghill  villain  and  mechanical, 

I  '11  have  thy  head  for  this  thy  traitor's  speech, 
I  do  beseech  your  royal  majesty,  201 

Let  him  have  all  the  rigor  of  the  law. 

Hor.  Alas,  my  lord,  hang  me,  if  ever  I  spake 
the  words.  My  accuser  is  my  'prentice; 
and  when  I  did  correct  him  for  his  fault  the 
other  day,  he  did  vow  upon  his  knees  he 
would  be  even  with  me :  I  have  good  witness 
of  this;  therefore  I  beseech  your  majesty, 
do  not  cast  away  an  honest  man  for  a  vil- 
lain's accusation. 

King.  Uncle,  what  shall  we  say  to  this  in  law?  210 

Gloii.  This  doom,  my  lord,  if  I  may  judge: 
Let  Somerset  be  regent  o'er  the  French, 
Because  in  York  this  breeds  suspicion: 
And  let  these  have  a  day  appointed  them 
For  single  combat  in  convenient  place. 
For  he  hath  witness  of  his  servant's  malice: 

211.  "This  doom,  my  lord,  if  I  may  judye";  Capell  reads  "This 
do,  my  lord,  if  I  may  be  the  judge";  Dyce  from  Qq.,  "This  is  my 
doom,  my  lord,  if  I  may  judye";  Vaughan  conjectured  "This  doom, 
my  lord,  if  I  may  judye,  is  law";  Collier  MS.,  "This  doom,  my 
gracious  lord,  if  I  may  judye," — I.  G. 


82 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  hL 

This  is  the  law,  and  this  Duke  Humphrey's 
doom. 
Som.  I  liumhly  thank  your  royal  majesty. 
Ilor.  And  I  accept  the  combat  wiUingly. 
Pet.  Alas,  my  lord,  I  cannot  fight;  for  God's  220 

sake,  pity  my  case.     The  spite  of  man  pre- 

vaileth  against  me.     O  Lord,  have  mercy 

upon  me!     I  shall  never  be  able  to  fight  a 

blow.     O  Lord,  my  heart! 
Glou.  Sirrah,  or  you  must  fight,  or  else  be  hang'd. 
King.  Away  with  them  to  prison ;  and  the  day 

of  combat  shall  be  the  last  of  next  month. 

Come,  Somerset,  we  '11  see  thee  sent  away. 

[Floiuish.     Exeunt. 

218.  Before  this  line,  the  two  following  lines,  first  inserted  by 
Theobald  from  the  quarto,  are  commonly  retained  in  modern  edi- 
tions, on  the  ground  that  Somerset  is  made  to  thank  the  king  for 
the  regency  before  the  king  has  confirmed  it  to  him: 

"Kinff.  Then  be  it  so.     My  lord  of  Somerset, 
We  make  your  grace  lord  regent  o'er  the  French." 

But  as  the  king  has  already  referred  to  Gloster  to  pronounce  sen- 
tence of  law  in  the  case,  perhaps  the  lines  are  needless;  not  to 
say,  that  the  passage,  as  it  stands,  better  shows  the  habit  of  almost 
kinglv  rule  in  the  duke,  and  of  answering  submission  in  others. — 
H.  N.  H. 

2:21.  "the  spite  of  man";  Capell  reads  "the  sight  of  my  master"; 
Ff.  3,  3,  read  "the  spite  of  viy  man";  F.  4,  "the  spite  of  my  master"; 
Collier  IMS.,  "the  spite  of  this  man";  Steevens,  "the  spite  of  a  man"; 
Vaughan  conj.  "the  spite  of  many." — I.  G. 


S8 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 


Scene  IV 

Gloucester's  garden. 

Enter  Margery  Jourdain,  Hume^  Southivell,, 
and  Bolinghroke. 

Hume.  Come,  my  masters;  the  duchess,  I  tell 
you,  expects  performance  of  your  promises. 

Boling:  Master  Hume,  we  are  therefore  pro- 
vided :  will  her  ladyship  behold  and  hear  bur 
exorcisms? 

Hume.  Aye,  what  else?  fear  you  not  her  cour- 
age. 

Boling.  I.  have  heard  her  reported  to  be  a 
woman  of  an  invincible  spirit:  but  it  shall 
be  convenient.  Master  Hume,  that  you  be  10 
by  her  aloft,  while  we  be  busy  below ;  and  so, 
I  pray  you,  go,  in  God's  name,  and  leave 
us.  [Ecvit  Hume.l  Mother  Jourdain,  be 
you  prostrate  and  grovel  on  the  earth ;  John 
Southwell,  read  you ;  and  let  us  to  our  work. 

Filter  Duchess  aloft j,  Hume  following, 

Duch.  Well  said,  my  masters;  and  w^elcome  all. 

To  this  gear  the  sooner  the  better. 
Boling.  Patience,  good  lady;  wizards  know  their 
times : 
Deep  night,  dark  night,  the  silent  of  the  night, 
The  time  of  night  when  Troy  was  set  on  fire;  20 
The  time  when  screech-owls  cry,  and  ban-dogs 
howl, 

34 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  iv. 

And  spirits  walk,  and  ghosts  break  up  their 

graves, 
That  time  best  fits  the  work  we  have  in  hand. 
Madam,  sit  you  and  fear  not :  whom  we  raise. 
We  will  make  fast  within  a  hallow'd  verge. 
\_He?'e  they  do  the  ceremonies  belonging, 
and  make  the  circle;  Bolinghroke  or 
Southwell  reads,  Conjuro  te,  etc.     It 
thunders  and  lightens  terribly;  then  the 
Spirit  riseth. 
Spir.  Adsum. 
31.  Jourd.  Asmath, 

By  the  eternal  God,  whose  name  and  power 
Thou  tremblest  at,  answer  that  I  shall  ask; 
For,  till  thou  speak,  thou  shalt  not  pass  from 
hence.  30 

Spir.  Ask  what  thou  wilt.     That  I  had  said  and 

done  I 
Boling.  'First  of  the  king:  what  shall  of  him  be- 
come- -'  [Reading  out  of  paper. 
Spir.  The  duke  yet  lives  that  Henry  shall  depose; 
But  him  outlive,  and  die  a  violent  death. 

[As  the  Spirit  speaks,  Southwell  writes 

the  answer. 
Boling.  'What  fates  await  the  Duke  of  Suffolk?* 
Spir.  By  water  shall  he  die,  and  take  his  end. 
Boling.  'What  shall  befall  the  Duke  of  Somerset?' 
Spir.  Let  him  shun  castles; 

31.  It  was  anciently  believed  that  spirits,  who  were  raised  by  in- 
cantations, remained  above  ground,  and  answered  questions  with 
reluctance. — H.  N.  H. 

35.  "What  fates  aioait";  so  Ff.;  Pope  reads  "Tell  vie  what  fates 
await";  Capell,  "What  fate  awaits";  Vaughaii,  "What  fates  awaiteth 
then";  Wordsworth,  "Tell  me  xohat  fate  awaits." — I.  G. 

35 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Safer  shall  he  be  upon  the  sandy  plains 
Than  where  castles  mounted  stand.  40 

Have  done,  for  more  I  hardly  can  endure. 
Boling.  Descend  to  darkness  and  the  burning  lake  I 
False  fiend,  avoid! 

[Thunder  and  lightning.     Exit  Spirit. 

Enter  the  Duke  of  York  and  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham with  their  Chiard  and  break  in. 

York.  Lay  hands  upon  these  traitors   and  their 
trash. 
Beldam,  I  think  we  watch'd  you  at  an  inch. 
What,  madam,  are  you  there?  the  king  and 

commonweal 
Are  deeply  indebted  for  this  piece  of  pains: 
My  lord  protector  will,  I  doubt  not, 
See  you  well  guerdon'd  for  these  good  deserts. 
Duch.  Not   half   so   bad   as   thine   to    England's 
king,  50 

Injurious  duke,  that  threatest  where  's  no  cause. 
Buck.  True,  madam,  none  at  all:  what  call  you 
this? 
Away  with  them!  let  them  be  clapp'd  up  close, 
And  kept  asunder.     You,  madam,  shall  with 

us. 
Stafford,  take  her  to  thee. 

[Exeunt  above  Duchess  and  Hume,  guarded. 
We  '11  see  your  trinkets  here  all  forthcoming. 
All,  away!         [Exeunt  guard  with  Jourdain, 

Southwell,  etc. 

45.  "we  watch'd  you  at  an  inch";  Daniel,  "we've  catch'd  in  the  nick," 
or  "at  the  nick."—l.  G. 

36 


KING  HENKY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  iv. 

York.  Lord  Buckingham,  methinks,  you  watch'd 
her  well: 

A  pretty  plot,  well  chosen  to  build  upon! 

Now,  pray,  my  lord,  let 's  see  the  devil's  writ.    60 

What  have  we  here?  [Reads. 

'The  duke  yet  lives,  that  Henry  shall  depose ; 

But  him  outlive,  and  die  a  violent  death.' 

Why  this  is  just 

*Aio  te,  iEacida,  Romanos  vincere  posse.' 

Well,  to  the  rest: 

'Tell  me,  what  fate  awaits  the  Duke  of  Suf- 
folk? 

By  water  shall  he  die,  and  take  his  end. 

What  shall  betide  the  Duke  of  Somerset? 

Let  him  shun  castles;  70 

Safer  shall  he  be  upon  the  sandy  plains 

Than  where  castles  mounted  stand.' 

Come,  come,  my  lords; 

These  oracles  are  hardly  attain'd, 

And  hardly  understood. 

The  king  is  now  in  progress  towards  Saint  Al- 
ban's, 

With  him  the  husband  of  this  lovely  lady: 

Thither  go  these  news,  as  fast  as  horse  can  carry 
them : 

A  sorry  breakfast  for  my  lord  protector. 

65.  "Aio  te,  ^acida,  Romanos  vincere  'posse";  the  ambiguous  an- 
swer which  Pyrrhiis  received  from  the  oracle  at  Delphi  before  his 
war  against  the  Romans;  meaning  either  "I  say  that  thou,  the  de- 
scendant of  jEacus,  mayest  conquer  the  Romans,"  or,  "I  say  that 
the  Romans  may  conquer  thee,  descendant  of  iEacus";  "te"  inserted 
by  Warburton;"Ff.  1,  2,  read,  ".Eacida";  Ff.  3,  4,  "J^acide";  Rowe, 
"te  Jiacidem."—!.  G. 

37 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF. 

Buck.  Your  grace  shall  give  me  leave,  my  Lord  of 
York,  ao 

To  be  the  post,  in  hope  of  liis  reward. 
York,  At  your  pleasure,  my  good  lord.     Who  *s 
within  there,  ho! 

Enter  a  Servingman. 
Invite  my  Lords  of  Salisbury  and  Warwick 
To  sup  with  me  to-morrow  night.     Away! 

[Exeunt, 


38 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  u.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  SECOND 

Scene  I 

Saint  Alhan's. 

Enter  the  King,  Queen,  Gloucester,  Cardinal,  and 
Suffolk,  "with  Falconers  halloing. 

Queen.  Believe  me,  lords,  for  flying  at  the  brook, 
I  saw  not  better  sport  these  seven  years'  day : 
Yet,  by  your  leave,  the  wind  was  very  high; 
And,  ten  to  one,  old  Joan  had  not  gone  out. 

King.  But  what  a  point,  my  lord,  your   falcon 
made. 
And  what  a  pitch  she  flew  above  the  rest! 
To  see  how  God  in  all  His  creatures  works ! 
Yea,  man  and  birds  are  fain  of  climbing  high. 

Suf.  No  marvel,  an  it  like  your  majesty 

My  lord  protector's  hawks  do  tower  so  well;    10 

They  know  their  master  loves  to  be  aloft. 

And  bears  his  thoughts-  above  his  falcon's  pitch. 

Glou.  My  lord,  'tis  but  a  base  ignoble  mind 
That  mounts  no  higher  than  a  bird  can  soar. 

Car.  I  thought  as  much;  he  would  be  above  the 
clouds. 

1.  ffi/in(;  at  the  brook,  hawking  water-fowl.— C.  H.  II. 

39 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Glow.  Aye,  my  lord  cardinal?  how  think  you  by 
that? 
Were   it  not   good   your   grace   could  fly   to 
heaven  ? 
King.  The  treasury  of  everlasting  joy. 
Car.  Thy    heaven    is    on    earth;    thine    eyes    and 
thoughts 
Beat  on  a  crown,  the  treasure  of  thy  heart ;     20 
Pernicious  protector,  dangerous  peer, 
That  smooth'st  it  so  with  king  and  common- 
weal! 
Glou.  What,  cardinal,  is  your  priesthood  grown 
peremptory  ? 
Tanta^ne  animis  coelestibus  irse? 
Churclimen  so  hot?  good  uncle,  hide  such  mal- 
ice; 
"V^^ith  such  holiness  can  you  do  it? 
Suf.  Xo  malice,  sir;  no  more  than  well  becomes 

So  good  a  quarrel  and  so  bad  a  peer. 
Glou.  As  who,  my  lord? 
Suf.  Why,  as  you,  my  lord, 

An  't  hke  your  lordly  lord-protectorship.       30 
Glou.  Why,  Suffolk,  England  knows  thine  inso- 
lence. 
Queen.  And  thy  ambition,  Gloucester. 

24.  "Tantcene  animis  ccelestibus  irce?"  "Is  such  resentment  found 
in  heavenly  minds?"    (/Eneid,  i.   15).     Omitted   by   Pope. — I.   G. 

26.  "With  such  holiness  can  you  do  it";  omitted  by  Pope.  War- 
burton,  "With  such  holiness  can  you  not  do  it?";  Johnson,  "A 
churchman,  with  such"  &c. ;  Collier  MS.,  "And  with  such  holiness  you 
well  can  do  it";  the  old  play  "dote"  for  "do  it"  Many  emendations 
have  been  proposed.  If  the  original  reading  is  retained,  it  must 
be  considered  ironical. — I.  G. 

29.  "you";  Pope,  "yourself ."—I.  G. 

40 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

King.  I  prithee,  peace,  good  queen, 
And  '^7het  not  on  these  furious  peers; 
For  blessed  are  the  peacemakers  on  earth. 
Car.  Let  nie  be  blessed  for  the  peace  I  make, 

Against  this  proud  protector,  with  my  sword! 
Glou.  [Aside  to  Ca7'.~\  Faith,  hoty  uncle,  would 

'twere  come  to  that! 
Car.   [Asicfe  to  Glou.l  ^larry,  when  thou  darest. 
Glou.   [Aside  to  Car.l  JNIake  up  no  factious  num- 
bers for  the  matter;  40 
In  thine  own  person  answer  thj'-  abuse. 
Car.   [Aside  to  Glou.']  Aye,  where  thou  darest  not 
peep:  an  if  thou  darest,                     ^ 
This  evening,  on  the  east  side  of  the  grove. 
King.  How  now,  my  lords! 

Car.  Believe  me,  cousin  Gloucester, 

Had  not  your  man  put  up  the  fowl  so  sud- 
denly. 
We  had  had  more  sport.     [Aside   to  Glou.'\ 
Come  with  thv  two-hand  sword. 
Glou.  True,  uncle. 
Caj\   [Aside  to  Glou.]  Are  you  advised?  the  east 

side  of  the  grove? 

Glou.  [Aside  to  Car.]   Cardinal,  I  am  with  you. 

King.  Why,  how  now,  uncle  Gloucester! 

Glou.     Talking    of   hawking;    nothing    else,    my 

lord.  50 

[Aside  to  Car.]   Now%  by  God's  mother,  priest, 

I  '11  shave  your  crown  for  this. 
Or  all  my  fence  shall'  fail. 

34.  "furious":  F.  2,  "too-too  furiovs."—!.  G. 
47-49.  given  in  Ff.  to  Gloster;  corrected  by  Theobald. — I.  G. 

41> 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Car.  [Aside  to  Glou.l  Medice,  teipsum — 

Protector,  see  to  't  well,  protect  yourself. 
King.  The  winds  grow  high ;  so  do  your  stomachs, 
lords, 

How  irksome  is  this  music  to  my  heart! 

When  such  strings  jar,  what  hoj^e  of  harmony? 

I  pray,  my  lords,  let  me  compound  this  strife. 

Enter  a  Townsman  of  Saint  Albans,  crying 

'A  miracle!' 

Glou.  What  means  this  noise? 

Fellow,  what  miracle  dost  thou  proclaim?     60 
Towns.  A  miracle!  a  miracle! 

S^if.  Come  to  the  king  and  tell  him  what  miracle. 
Towns.  Forsooth,  a  blind  man  at   Saint  Alban's 
shrine, 

Within  this  half -hour,  hath  received  his  sight; 

A  man  that  ne'er  saw  in  his  life  before. 
King.  Now,  God  be  praised,  that  to  believing  souls 

Gives  light  in  darkness,  comfort  in  despair ! 

Enter  the  Mayor  of  Saint  Albans  and  his  brethren, 
bearing  Simpcox,  between  two  in  a  chair.  Simp- 
cox's  Wife  following. 

Car.  Here  comes  the  townsmen  on  procession, 

To  present  your  highness  with  the  man. 
King.  Great  is  his  comfort  in  this  earthly  vale,    70 

54.  "Medice,  teipsum — ";  "Physician,  heal  thyself";  from  the  Vul- 
gate (Luke  iv.  23).  Ff.  read  "Medice  teipsum";  Rowe,  "Medice  cura 
teipsum";  &c.  omitted  by  Pope. — I.  G. 

69.  'To  present  your  highness  with  the  man";  Pope  reads,  "Before 
your  hiyhness  to  present  the  man";  Capell,  "Come  to  present  your 
highness  with  the  man"  &c. — I.  G. 

42 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  li.  Sc.  i. 

Although  by  his  sight  liis  sin  be  multipHed. 
Glou.  Stand  by,  my  masters:  bring  him  near  the 
king; 
His  highness'  pleasure  is  to  talk  with  him. 
King.  Good  fellow,  tell  us  here  the  circumstance, 
That  we  for  thee  may  glorify  the  Lord. 
What,  hast  thou  been  long  blind  and  now  re- 
stored ? 
Simp.  Born  blind,  an  't  please  your  grace. 
Wife.  Aye,  indeed,  was  he. 
Suf.  What  woman  is  this? 

Wife.  His  wife,  an  't  like  your  worship.  80 

Glou.  Hadst  thou  been  his  mother,  thou  couldst 

have  better  told. 
King.  Where  wert  thou  born? 
Simp.  At  Berwick  in  the  north,  an  't  like  your 

grace. 
King.  Poor  soul,  God's  goodness  hath  been  great 
to  thee: 
Let  never  da^''  nor  night  unhallow'd  pass, 
But  still  remember  what  the  Lord  hath  done. 
Queen.  Tell  me,  good  fellow,  camest  thou  here  by 
chance, 
Or  of  devotion,  to  this  holy  shrine? 
Simp.  God  knows,  of  pure  devotion;  being  call'd 
A  hundred  times  and  oftener,  in  my  sleep,      90 
By   good   Saint  Alban;   who   said,    'Simpcox, 

come, 
Come,  offer  at  my  shrine,  and  I  will  help  thee.* 
Wife.  Most  true,  forsooth ;  and  many  time  and  oft 

91.  "Simpcox";   Pope's   emendation    (Theobald  conj.)    of   Ff.   "Sy- 
mon";  Capell,  "Saunder."—l.  G. 

43 


Act  IL  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Myself  have  heard  a  voice  to  call  him  so. 
Car.  What,  art  thou  lame? 

Sim'p.  Aye,  God  Almighty  help  me  I 

Siif.  How  earnest  thou  so? 
Simp.  A  fall  off  of  a  tree. 

Wife.  A  plum-tree,  master. 

Gloii.  How  long  hast  thou  been  blind? 

Sivip.  O,  born  so,  master. 

Gloii.  What,  and  wouldst  climb  a  tree? 

Simp.  But  that  in  all  my  life,  when  I  was  a  youth. 
Wife.  Too  true;  and  bought  his  climbing  very 

dear.  100 

Glou.  Mass,  thou  lovedst  plums  well,  that  wouldst 

venture  so. 
Simp.  Alas,  good  master,  my  wife  desired  some 

damsons, 
And  made  me  climb,  with  danger  of  my  life. 
Gloii.  A  subtle  knave!  but  yet  it  shall  not  serve. 
Let  me  see  thine  eyes:  wink  now:  now  open 

them: 
In  my  opinion  yet  thou  see'st  not  well. 
Simp.  Yes,  master,  clear  as  day,  I  thank  God  and 

Saint  Alban. 
Glou.  Say'st  thou  me  so?    What  color  is  this  cloak 

of? 
Simp.  Red,  master;  red  as  blood. 
Glou.  Why,  that 's  well  said.     What  color  is  my 

gown  of?  110 

Sim'p.  Black,  forsooth:  coal-black  as  jet. 
King.  Why,  then,  thou  know'st  what  color  jet  is 

of? 
Suf.  And  yet,  I  think,  jet  did  he  never  see. 

44 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Gloii.  But  cloaks  and  gowns,  before  this  day,  a 
many. 

Wife.  Never,  before  this  day,  in  all  his  life. 

Glou.  Tell  me,  sirrah,  what 's  my  name? 

Simp.  Alas,  master,  I  know  not. 

Glou.  What's  his  name? 

Simp.  I  know  not. 

Glou.  Nor  his?  120 

Simp.  No,  indeed,  master. 

Glou.  What 's  thine  own  name? 

Simp.  Saunder  Simpcox,  an  if  it  please  you,  mas- 
ter. 

Glou.  Then,  Saunder,  sit  there,  the  lyingest 
knave  in  Christendom.  If  thou  hadst  been 
born  blind,  thou  mightst  as  well  have  known 
all  our  names  as  thus  to  name  the  several  col- 
ors we  do  wear.  Sight  may  distinguish  of 
colors,  but  suddenly  to  nominate  them  all,  it 
is  impossible.     JNIy  lords,  Saint  Alban  here  130 

130.  This  passage  between  Gloster  and  Simpcox  is  founded  on  a 
story  told  by  Sir  Thomas  More,  substantially  as  follows:  One  time, 
as  King  Henry  VI  rode  in  progress,  there  came  to  the  town  of 
St.  Albans  a  certain  beggar,  with  his  wife,  and  there  was  walking 
about  the  town,  begging,  saying  that  he  was  born  blind,  and  was 
warned  in  a  dream  that  he  should  come  out  of  Berwick,  where  he 
had  ever  dwelt,  to  seek  St.  Alban.  When  the  king  was  come,  and 
the  town  full  of  people,  suddenly  this  blind  man,  at  St.  Alban's 
shrine,  had  his  sight;  and  the  same  was  solcnmly  rung  for  a  miracle, 
so  that  nothing  else  was  talked  of  in  all  the  town.  It  so  happened 
that  Humphrey,  duke  of  Gloster,  a  man  no  less  wise  than  well- 
learned,  called  the  poor  man  to  him,  and  locked  well  upon  his  eyes, 
and  asked  whether  he  could  never  see  any  thing  in  all  his  life 
before.  When  both  himself  and  his  wife  affirmed  fastly  "no,"  then 
he  looked  advisedly  upon  his  eyes  again,  and  said,  "I  believe  you 
say  well,  for  methinketh  ye  cannot  see  well  yet."  "Yes,  sir,"  quoth 
he;  "I  thank  God  and  his  holy  martyr,  I  can  see  now  as  well  as 
any  man."    "Ye  can?"  quoth  the  duke;  "what  color  is  this  gown?" 

45 


Act  11.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

hath  done  a  miracle ;  and  would  ye  not  think 

his  cunning  to  be  great,  that  could  restore 

this  cripple  to  his  legs  again? 
Simp.  O  master,  that  you  could! 
Glou.  JMy  masters  of  Saint  Alban's,  have  you 

not  beadles  in  your  town,  and  things  called 

whips  ? 
May.  Yes,  my  lord,  if  it  please  your  grace. 
Glou.  Then  send  for  one  presently. 
May.  Sirrah,     go     fetch     the     beadle     hither  140 

straight.  [Exit  an  Attendant. 

Glou.  Now  fetch  me  a  stool  hither  by  and  by. 

Now,  sirrah,  if  you  mean  to  save  yourself 

from  whipping,  leap  me  over  this  stool  and 

run  away. 
Simp.  Alas,  master,  I  am  not  able  to  stand  alone: 

You  go  about  to  torture  me  in  vain. 

Enter  a  Beadle  with  tvliips, 
Glou,  Well,  sir,  we  must  have  you  find  your 

Tlieii  anon  the  beggar  told  him.  "What  color,"  quoth  he,  "is  this 
man's  gown?"  He  told  him  this  also,  without  staying  or  stumbling, 
and  so  of  all  the  colors  that  could  be  showed  him.  And  when  the 
duke  saw  that,  he  had  him  set  openly  in  the  stocks. — H.  N.  H. 

136.  "things  called  whips";  Halliwell  and  others  quote  from  Ar- 
min's  jSlest  of  Ninnies  (1608);  "There  are,  as  Hamlet  sales,  things 
cald  whips  in  store";  this  cannot  refer,  as  has  been  supposed,  to 
Hamlet's  "whips  and  scorns  of  time"  but  may  well  have  occurred  in 
the  pre-Shakespearian  Hamlet.  The  actual  words  are  to  be  found 
in  Kyd's  Spanish  Tragedy: — 

"Well  heaven  is  heaven  still! 
And  there  is  Nemesis,  and  furies, 
And  things  call'd  whips." 

Perhaps  Arrain  wrote  "Hamlet"  when  he  meant  "Jeronimy." — I.  G. 


46 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

legs.     Sirrah  beadle,  whip  him  till  he  leap 
over  that  same  stool.  1^0 

Bead.  I  will,  my  lord.     Come  on,  sirrah;  off 
with  your  doublet  quickly. 

Si7?ip.  Alas,  master,  what  shall  I  do?    I  am  not 
able  to  stand. 

[After  the  Beadle  hath  hit  him  once,  he  leaps 
over  the  stool  and  runs  away;  and  they 
follow  and  cry,  'A  miracle!' 

King.  O  God,  seest  Thou  this,  and  bearest  so  long? 

Queen.  It  made  me  laugh  to  see  the  villain  run. 

Glou.  Follow  the  knave;  and  take  his  drab  away. 

Wife.  Alas,  sir,  we  did  it  for  pure  need. 

Glou.  Let  them  be  whipped  through  every  mar- 
ket-town, till  they  come  to  Berwick,  from  160 
whence  they  came. 

[Exeunt  Wife,  Beadle,  Mayor,  etc. 

Car.  Duke  Humphrey  has  done  a  miracle  to-day. 

Suf.  True;  made  the  lame  to  leap  and  fly  away. 

Glou.  But  you  have  done  more  miracles  than  I ; 
You  made  in  a  day,  my  lord,  whole  towns  to 

fly- 

Enter  Buckingham. 

King.  What  tidings  with  our  cousin  Buckingham? 

Buck.  Such  as  my  heart  doth  tremble  to  unfold, 
A  sort  of  naughty  persons,  lewdl}^  bent, 
Under  the  countenance  and  confederacy 
Of  Lady  Eleanor,  the  protector's  wife,       170 
The  ringleader  and  head  of  all  this  rout. 
Have  practiced  dangerously  against  your  state, 
Dealing  with  witches  and  with  conjurers: 

47 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Whom  we  have  apprehended  in  the  fact ; 

Raising  up  wicked  spirits  from  mider  ground, 

Demanding  of  King  Henry's  Hfe  and  death, 

And  other  of  your  highness'  privy -council ; 

As  more  at  large  your  grace  shall  understand. 
Car,  [Aside  to  Glou.]  And  so,  my  lord  ]3rotector, 
by  this  means 

Your  lady  is  forthcoming  yet  at  London.     180 

This  news,  I  think,  hath  turn'd  your  weapon's 
edge ; 

'Tis  like,  my  lord,  you  will  not  keep  your  hour. 
Glou.  Ambitious  churchman,  leave  to  afflict  my 
heart : 

Sorrow  and  grief  have  vanquish'd  all  my  pow- 
ers; 

And,  vanquish'd  as  I  am,  I  yield  to  thee. 

Or  to  the  meanest  groom. 
King.  O  God,  what  mischiefs  w^ork  the  wicked 
ones. 

Heaping  confusion  on  their  own  heads  there- 
by! 
Queen.  Gloucester,  see  here  the  tainture  of  thy 
nest, 

And  look  thyself  be  faultless,  thou  wert  best. 
Glou.  Madam,   for  myself,  to  heaven  I   do  ap- 
peal, 190 

How  I  have  loved  my  king  and  commonweal: 

And,  for  my  wife,  I  know  not  how  it  stands ; 

Sorry  I  am  to  hear  what  I  have  heard : 

180.  "forthcoming  "  that  is,  your  lady  is  in  custody. — H.  N.  H. 
184.  "vanquish'd";    Walker,    "lanffuish'd";    Vaughan,    "banish'd."^ 
I.  G. 

48 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

Noble  she  is,  but  if  she  have  forgot 
Honor  and  virtue  and  conversed  with  such 
As,  like  to  pitch,  defile  nobility, 
I  banish  her  my  bed  and  company, 
And  give  her  as  a  prey  to  law  and  shame. 
That  hath  chshonor'd  Gloucester's  honest  name. 
King.  Well,    for    this   night   we    will   repose    us 
here :  200 

To-morrow  toward  London  back  again. 
To  look  into  this  business  thoroughly. 
And  call  these  foul  offenders  to  their  answers, 
And  poise  the  cause  in  justice's  equal  scales, 
Whose  beam  stands  sure,  whose  rightful  cause 
prevails.  [Flourish.    Exeunt. 


Scene  II 

London.     The  Duke  of  York's  garden. 
Enter  York,  Salishury,  and  Warwick. 

York.  Now,   my   good   Lords   of    Salisbury   and 
Warwick, 
Our  simple  supper  ended,  give  me  leave 
In  this  close  walk  to  satisfy  myself, 
In  craving  your  opinion  of  my  title. 
Which  is  infallible,  to  England's  cro\Mi. 

Sal.  My  lord,  I  long  to  hear  it  at  full. 

War.  Sweet  York,  begin :  and  if  thy  claim  be  good, 
The  Nevils  are  thy  subjects  to  command. 

6.  "at  ftill";  Ff.  3,  4,  "thus  at  full";  Capell,  "at  the  full";  Keight- 
ley,  "at  full  length";  Marshall,  "told  at  full."— I.  G. 
Slik-1-22  49 


Act  11.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF, 

York.  Then  thus : 

Edward  the  Third,  my  lords,  had  seven  sons :  10 
The  first,  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  Prince  of 

Wales ; 
The  second,  William  of  Hatfield,  and  the  third, 
Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence;  next  to  whom 
Was  John  of  Gaunt,  the  Duke  of  Lancaster; 
The   fifth   was   Edmund   Langley,   Duke   of 

York; 
The  sixth  was  Thomas  of  Woodstock,  Duke  of 

Gloucester ; 
William  of  Windsor  was  the  seventh  and  last. 
Edward    the    Black    Prince  died    before    his 

father, 
And  left  behind  him  Richard,  his  only  son, 
Who  after  Edward  the  Third's  death  reign 'd 

as  king;  20 

Till   Henrj^   Bolingbroke,   Duke   of   Lancas- 
ter, 
The  eldest  son  and  heir  of  John  of  Gaunt, 
Crown'd  by  the  name  of  Henry  the  Fourth, 
Seized  on  the  realm,  deposed  the  rightful  king, 
Sent  his  poor  queen  to  France,  from  whence  she 

came. 
And  him  to  Pomfret;  where,  as  all  you  know, 
Harmless  Richard  was  murder'd  traitorously. 

15.  "Edmund";  F.  1  reads  "Edmond";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Edward."—- 
I.  G. 

27.  "Richard  was  murder'd  traitorously" ;  F.  1,  reads  "Richard 
.  .  .  traiterously" ;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "King  Richard  .  .  .  traiter- 
ously";  Pope,  "King  Richard  trait'rously  was  murther'd";  Dyce,  "was 
harmless  Richard  murder'd  traitorously." — I.  G. 


50 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  ii 

War.  Father,  the  duke  hath  told  the  truth; 

Thus  got  the  liouse  of  Lancaster  the  crown. 
York.  Which  now  they  hold  hy  force  and  not  by 
right;  30 

For  Richard,  the  first  son's  heir,  being  dead, 
The  issue  of  the  next  son  should  have  reign'd. 
Sal.  But  William  of  Hatfield  died  without  an  heir. 
York.  The  third   son,   Duke   of   Clarence,    from 
whose  line 
I  claim  the  crown,  had  issue,  Phihppe,  a  daugh- 
ter. 
Who  married  Edmund  Mortimer,  Earl  of 

March : 
Edmund  had  issue,  Roger  Earl  of  ^larch; 
Roger  had  issue,  Edmund,  Anne  and  Eleanor. 
Sal.  This  Edmund,  in  the  reign  of  Bolingbroke, 
As  I  have  read,  laid  claim  unto  the  crown ;      40 
And,  but  for  Owen  Glendower,  had  been  king. 
Who  kept  him  in  captivity  till  he  died. 

28.  "told  the  truth";  Hanmer  reads  "told  the  very  truth";  Capell, 
"surely  told  the  truth";  Keightley,  "told  the  truth  in  this";  Marshall, 
"the  Duke  of  York  hath  told  the  truth."— I.  G. 

85.  "Philippe,"  Hanmer's  correction;  F.  1,  "Phillip";  Ff.  2,  3,  4, 
"Philip";  Collier  MS.,  "Philippa."—!.  G. 

42.  Here  we  have  another  troublesome  piece  of  historical  confu- 
sion. Shakespeare,  following  the  chroniclers,  confounded  Sir  Ed- 
mund Mortimer  with  the  young  earl  of  March,  whose  name  was  also 
Kdnnnid  Mortimer.  Early  in  the  reign  of  Henry  IV,  Sir  Edmund, 
being  sent  with  an  army  against  Owen  Glendower,  was  taken  prisoner 
by  him,  but  not  long  after  was  released,  married  to  his  daughter, 
and  joined  with  the  Percys  in  their  great  rebellion  against  the  king. 
Lord  Grey  of  Ruthven,  who  had  also  married  a  daughter  of  Glen- 
dower, getting  afterwards  into  a  war  with  his  father-in-law,  like- 
wise fell  into  his  hands,  and  died  in  captivity.  Here,  then,  we  have 
a  double  confusion:  In  the  first  place,  Fdmund.  earl  of  March,  is 
confounded  with  his  uncle,  Sir  Edmund  Mortimer;  and  in  the  second 
place.  Sir  Edmund,  having  been  sometime  captive  to  liis  father-in- 

51 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

But  to  the  rest. 
York.  His  eldest  sister,  Anne, 

JNIy  mother,  being  heir  unto  the  crown, 
JNIarried  Richard  Earl  of  Cambridge;  who  was 

son 
To  Edmund  Langley,  Edward  the  Third's  fifth 

son. 
By  her  I  claim  the  kingdom :  she  was  heir 
To  Roger  Earl  of  JMarch,  who  was  the  son 
Of  Edmund  JNIortimer,  who  married  Philippe, 
Sole  daughter  unto  Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence: 
So,  if  the  issue  of  the  elder  son  51 

Succeed  before  the  younger,  I  am  king. 
War.  What  plain  proceeding  is  more  plain  than 

this? 
Henry  doth  claim  the  crown  from  John  of 

Gaunt,  i 

The  fourth  son;  York  claims  it  from  the  third. 
Till  Lionel's  issue  fails,  his  should  not  reign : 
It  fails  not  yet,  but  flourishes  in  thee 
And  in  thy  sons,  fair  slips  of  such  a  stock. 
Then,  father  Salisbury,  kneel  we  together; 
And  in  this  private  plot  be  we  the  first  60 

That  shall  salute  our  rightful  sovereign 
With  honor  of  his  birthright  to  the  crown. 

law,  is  confounded  with  Lord  Grey,  who  was  held  in  captivity  by 
his  father-in-law  till  he  died.  In  the  First  Part  this  same  earl  of 
March  is  represented  as  dying  an  old  man  in  the  Tower  of  London, 
where  he  had  been  detained  not  by  Glendower,  but  by  the  king; 
which  discrepancy  has  been  thought  to  argue  that  the  First  and 
Second  Parts  were  not  by  the  same  author. — H.  N.  H. 

55.  "York  claims";  Pope,  "York  here  claims";  Capell,  "but  York 
claims";  Dvce,  "while  York  claims";  Hudson,  "York  doth  claim."— 
I.  G. 

52 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Both.  Long  live  our  sovereign  Richard,  England's 

king! 
York.  We  thank  you,  lords.     But  I  am  not  your 
king 
Till  I  be  crown'd,  and  that  my  sword  be  stain'd 
With  heart-blood  of  the  house  of  Lancaster; 
And  that 's  not  suddenly  to  be  perform'd, 
But  with  advice  and  silent  secrecy. 
Do  you  as  I  do  in  these  dangerous  days: 
Wink  at  the  Duke  of  Suffolk's  insolence.       '70 
At  Beaufort's  pride,  at  Somerset's  ambiiion, 
At  Buckingham  and  all  the  crew  of  them, 
Till  they  have  snared  the  shepherd  of  the  flock, 
That  virtuous  prince,  the  good  Duke  Hum- 
phrey : 
'Tis  that  they  seek,  and  they  in  seeking  that 
Shall  find  their  deaths,  if  York  can  prophesy. 
Sal.  My  lord,  break  we  off ;  w^e  know  your  mind  at 

full. 
War.  My  heart  assures  me  that  the  Earl  of  War- 
"wick 
Shall  one  day  make  the  Duke  of  York  a  king. 
York.  And,  Nevil,  this  I  do  assure  myself:         80 
Richard  shall  live  to  make  the  Earl  of  Warwick 
The  greatest  man  in  England  but  the  king. 

[Ea^eunt 


55 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF. 


Scene  III 

A  hall  of  justice. 

Sound  trumpets.  Enter  the  King,  the  Queen, 
Gloucester,  York,  Suffolk,  and  Salisbury;  the 
Duchess  of  Gloucester,  Margery  Jourdain, 
Southwell,  Hume,  and  Bolingbroke,  under 
guard. 

King.  Stand  forth,  Dame  Eleanor  Cobham,  Glou- 
cester's wife: 
In  sight  of  God  and  us,  your  guilt  is  great: 
Receive  the  sentence  of  the  law  for  sins 
Such  as  by  God's  book  are  adjudged  to  death. 
You  four,  from  hence  to  prison  back  again; 
From  thence  unto  the  place  of  execution : 
The  witch  in  Smithfield  shall  be  burn'd  to  ashes, 
And  you  three  shall  be  strangled  on  the  gallows. 
You,  madam,  for  you  are  more  nobly  born, 
Despoiled  of  your  honor  in  your  life,  10 

Shall,  after  three  days'  open  penance  done, 
Live  in  your  country  here  in  banishment, 
With  Sir  John  Stanley,  in  the  Isle  of  Man. 

Duch.  Welcome  is  banishment;  welcome  were  my 
death. 

3.  "sins",^  Theobald's  emendation  of  "sinne"  Ff.  1,  2;  "sin"  Ff.  3. 
—I.  G. 

14.  "Welcome  is  banishment;  welcome  were  my  death";  Pope  reads 
"Welcome  is  exile"  &c. ;  Anon,  conjecture,  "Welcome  is  banishment; 
welcomer  my  death";  Wordsworth,  "Welcome  is  banishment;  wel- 
come v>ere  death";  "banishment"  is  probably  to  be  considered  a  dis- 
syUable.— I.  G. 

54, 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  in. 

Glou.  Eleanor,  the  law,  thou  see'st,  hath  judged 
thee : 
I  cannot  justify  whom  the  law  condemns. 

[Exeunt  Duchess  and  other  prisojiers, 

guarded. 
]Mine  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  my  heart  of  grief. 
Ah,  Humphrey,  this  dishonor  in  thine  age 
AVill  bring  thy  head  with  sorrow  to  the  ground ! 
I  beseech  your  majesty,  give  me  leave  to  go;  20 
Sorrow  would  solace  and  mine  age  would  ease. 
King.  Stay,  Humphrey  Duke  of  Gloucester:  ere 
thou  go. 
Give  up  thy  staff:  Henry  will  to  himself 

16.  This  sentence  fell  upon  the  duchess  in  November,  IWl.  Holin- 
shed  gives  the  following  account  of  the  matter:  "This  yeare  dame 
Eleanor  Cobham,  wife  to  the  said  duke,  was  accused  of  treason;  for 
that  she  by  sorcerie  and  enchantment  intended  to  destroie  the  king, 
to  the  intent  to  advance  hir  husband  unto  the  crowne.  Upon  tliis 
she  v.as  examined  in  saint  Stephans  chappell  before  the  bishop  of 
Canterburie,  and  there  convict  and  judged  to  doo  penance  in  three 
open  places  within  the  citie  of  London;  and  after  that  to  perpetuall 
imprisonment  in  the  He  of  Man,  under  the  keeping  of  sir  John  Stan- 
lie  knight.  At  the  same  season  were  arraigned  and  adjudged  guiltie, 
as  aiders  to  the  duchesse,  Thomas  Southwell,  priest,  John  Hum, 
priest,  Roger  Bolingbrooke,  a  cunning  necromancer,  and  Margerie 
Jordcine,  surnamed  the  witch  of  Eie.  The  matter  laid  against  them 
was,  for  that  they,  at  the  request  of  the  said  duchesse,  had  devised 
an  image  of  wax  representing  the  king,  which  by  their  sorcerie  by 
little  and  little  consumed,  intending  thereby  to  waste  and  destroie  the 
kings  person.  Margery  Jordeine  was  burnt  in  Smithfield,  and  Roger 
Bolingbrooke  was  drawne  to  Tiborne,  and  hanged,  and  quartered. 
John  Hum  had  his  pardon,  and  Southwell  died  in  the  Tower  the 
night  before  his  execution."  As  this  crime  and  punishment  of  the 
duchess  had  much  to  do  in  bringing  about  her  husband's  fall,  there 
was  good  dramatic  reason  for  setting  it  in  close  connection  with  the 
latter  event,  thousjh  in  fact  the  two  were  over  five  years  apart. — 
H.  N.  H. 

20.  "I  beseech";  Hanmer,  "Beseech."— J.  G. 

21.  "ease,"  the  reading  of  Ff.  1,  4;  Ff.  2,  3,  "cease."— I.  G. 

55 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Protector  be;  and  God  shall  be  my  hope, 
My  stay,  my  guide  and  lantern  to  my  feet : 
And  go  in  peace,  Humphrey,  no  less  beloved 
Than  when  thou  wert  protector  to  thy  king. 

Queen.  I  see  no  reason  why  a  king  of  years 

Should  be  to  be  protected  like  a  child.  29 

God  and  King  Henry  govern  England's  realm. 
Give  up  your  staff,  sir,  and  the  king  his  realm. 

Glau.  My  staff?  here,  noble  Henry,  is  my  staff: 
As  willingly  do  I  the  same  resign 
As  e'er  thy  father  Henry  made  it  mine; 
And  even  as  willingly  at  thy  feet  I  leave  it 
As  others  would  ambitiously  receive  it. 
Farewell,  good  king:  when!  am  dead  and  gone, 
May  honorable  peace  attend  thy  throne!  [Exit. 

Queen.  VVliy,  now  is  Henry  king,  and  Margaret 
queen ; 
And   Humphrey   Duke   of   Gloucester   scarce 
Iiimseif ,  ^^ ' 

That  bears  so  shrev>^d  a  maim ;  two  pulls  at  once ; 
His  lady  banish'd,  and  a  limb  lopp'd  off. 
This  staff  of  honor  raught,  there  let  it  stand 
Where  it  best  fits  to  be,  in  Plenry's  hand. 

Q9.  "Should  be  to  be  protected  like  a  child";  Collier  MS.  reads 
"Should  be  protected  like  a  child  by  peers."  "Should  be  to  be"z=z 
"should  need  to  be."— I.  G. 

30.  "God  and  King  Henry  govern  England's  realm";  omitted  by 
Capell;  "Realm"  the  reading  of  Ff.;  Steevens  (Johnson  conj.), 
"helm";  Dyce  and  Staunton,  "helm!"  In  the  next  line  Keightley  pro- 
posed "helm"  for  "realm." — I.  G. 

32.  Collier  MS.  inserts  after  1.  32,  "To  think  I  fain  would  keep  it 
makes  me  laugh." — I.  G. 

35.  "willingly";  Pope,  "willing"  (from  Qq.).— I.  G. 

56 


KING  HENRY  ^n[  Act  ii.  Sc.  m. 

Suf.  Thus  drooi^s  this  lofty  pine  and  hangs  his 
sprays ; 
Thus  Eleanor's  pride  dies  in  her  youngest  days. 

York.  Lords,  let  him  go.     Please  it  your  majesty, 
This  is  the  day  appointed  for  the  combat; 
And  ready  are  the  appellant  and  defendant, 
The  armorer  and  his  man,  to  enter  the  lists,  50 
So  please  your  highness  to  behold  the  fight. 

Queen.  Aye,  good  my  lord;  for  purposely  there- 
fore 
Left  I  the  court,  to  see  this  quarrel  tried. 

King.  O'  God's  name,  see  the  lists  and  all  things 
fit: 
Here  let  them  end  it ;  and  God  defend  the  riglit ! 

Yorli.  I  never  saw  a  fellow  worse  bested, 

Or  more  afraid  to  fight,  than  is  the  appellant. 
The  servant  of  this  armorer,  my  lords. 

Enter  at  one  door,  Horner,  the  Armorer,  and  his 
Neighbors,  drinking  to  Mm  so  much  that  he  is 
drunk;  and  he  enters  with  a  drum  before  him 
and  his  staff  with  a  sand-bag  fastened  to  it;  and 
at  the  other  door  Peter,  his  man,  with  a  drum 
and  a  sand-bag,  and  'Prentices  drinJcing  to  him. 

First  Neigh.  Here,  neiglibor  Horner,  I  drink 

46.  "Tier"  in  this  line  refers  to  pride,  and  not  to  Eleanor. — 
H.  N.  H. 

"youmjesl";  so  Ff,  1,  2;  Ff.  3,  4,  "yovnrjer";  Singer  (Anon, 
conj.  MS.),  "strongest";  Collier  MS.,  "proudest";  Staunton,  "haugh- 
tiest"; Kinnear,  "highest."  Perhaps  "her"  mav  be  taken  to  refer  to 
"pride."— I.  G. 

47.  "Lords,  let  him  go"  that  is,  let  him  pass  out  of  your  thoughts. 
Duke  Humphrey  had  already  left  the  stage. — H.  N.  H. 

55.  "defend"/  Pope,  "guard";  Vaughan,'  "fend."— I.  G. 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

to  you  in  a  cup  of  sack :  and  fear  not,  neigh-   60 
bor,  you  shall  do  well  enough. 

Sec.  Neigh.  And  here,  neighbor,  here  's  a  cup 
of  charneco. 

TJiird  Neigh.  And  here  's  a  pot  of  good  double 
beer,  neighbor:  diink,  and  fear  not  your 
man. 

Hor.  Let  it  come,  i'  faith,  and  I  '11  pledge  you 
all ;  and  a  fig  for  Peter ! 

First  'Pren.  Here,  Peter,  I  drink  to  thee:  and 
be  not  afraid. 

Sec.  'Pren.  Be  merry,  Peter,  and  fear  not  thy   70 
master:  fight  for  credit  of  the  'prentices. 

Peter.  I  thank  you  all :  drink,  and  pray  for  me, 
I  pray  you ;  for  I  think  I  have  taken  my  last 
draught  in  this  world.  Here,  Robin,  an  if 
I  die,  I  give  thee  my  apron :  and,  Will,  thou 
shalt  have  my  hammer:  and  here,  Tom, 
take  all  the  money  that  I  have.  O  Lord 
bless  me!  I  pray  God!  for  I  am  never  able 
to  deal  with  my  master,  he  hath  learnt  so 
much  fence  already.  80 

Sal.  Come,  leave  your  drinking,  and  fall  to 
blows.     Sirrah,  what 's  thy  name? 

Peter.  Peter,  forsooth. 

Sal.  Peter!  what  more? 

Peter.  Thump. 

Sal.  Thump!  then  see  thou  thump  thy  master 
well. 

Hor.  Masters,  I  am  come  hither,  as  it  were, 
upon  my  man's  instigation,  to  prove  him  a 
knave    and    myself    an    honest    man:    and   90 

58 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

touching  the  Duke  of  York,  I  will  take  my 

death,  I  never  meant  him  any  ill,  nor  the 

king,  nor  the  queen:  and  therefore,  Peter, 

have  at  thee  with  a  downright  hlow ! 
York.  Dispatch:  this  knave's  tongue  begins  to 

double.     Sound,    trumpets,   alarum   to   the 

combatants ! 
^Alarum.     They  fights  and  Peter  strikes  him 

down. 
11  or.  Hold,  Peter,  hold!  I  confess,  I  confess 

treason.  [Dies. 

York.  Take  away  his  weapon.     Fellow,  thank  100 

God,  and  the  good  wine  in  the  master's  way. 
Peter.  O  God,  have  I  overcome  mine  enemy  in 

this  presence  ?     O  Peter,  thou  hast  prevailed 

in  right! 
King.  Go,  take  hence  that  traitor   from  our 
sight ; 

94.  "blow";  Warburton  adds,  from  Qq.,  "as  Bevis  of  Southampton 
fell  xtpon  Ascapart." — I.  G. 

99.  This  odd  affair  of  Peter  and  Horner  is  founded  on  an  inci- 
dent told  by  Holinshed.  It  will  be  seen  that  Shakespeare  inno- 
vated upon  the  story,  in  making  Horner  "confess  treason."  "In 
the  same  yeare  also,"  (lt46)  "a  certaine  armourer  was  appeached 
of  treason  by  a  servant  of  his  owne.  For  proofe  whereof  a  daie 
was  given  them  to  fight  in  Smithficld,  insomuch  that  in  conflict  the 
said  armourer  was  overcome  and  slaine;  but  yet  by  misgoverning 
of  himselfe.  For  on  the  morrow,  when  he  should  come  to  the  field 
fresh  and  fasting,  his  neighbours  came  to  him,  and  gave  him  wine 
and  strong  drink  in  such  excessive  sort,  that  he  was  therewith  dis- 
tempered, and  reeled  as  he  went,  and  so  was  slaine  without  guilt. 
As  for  the  false  servant,  he  lived  not  long  unpunished;  for  being 
convict  of  felonie  in  court  of  assise,  he  was  judged  to  be  hanged, 
and  so  was,  at  Tiburne." — H.  N.  H. 

105.  "Oo,  take  hence  that  traitor  from  our  sight";  Hanmer,  "Go, 
and  take  hence,"  &c. ;  perhaps  "traitor"  should  be  read  as  a  tri- 
syllable.—I.  G. 

59 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

For  by  his  death  we  do  perceive  his  guilt: 
And  God  in  justice  hath  reveal'd  to  us 
The  truth  and  innocence  of  this  poor  fellow, 
Which  he  had  thought  to  have  murder 'd  wrong- 

fully. 
Come,  fellow,  follow  us  for  thy  reward.         HO 

ISound  a  flourish.     Exeunt. 


Scene  IV 

A  street. 

Enter  Gloucester  and  his  Serving-men,  in  mourn- 
ing cloaks. 

Glou.  Thus  sometimes  hath  the  brightest  day  a 
cloud ; 
And  after  summer  evermore  succeeds 
Barren  winter,  with  his  wrathful  nipping  cold: 

106.  The  real  names  of  the  combatants  were  John  Daveys  and 
William  Catour.  The  names  of  the  sheriffs  were  Godfrey  Bologne 
and  Robert  Home;  the  latter,  which  occurs  in  the  pages  of  Fabian's 
Chronicle,  may  have  suggested  the  name  of  Horner.  The  precept 
to  the  sheriffs,  commanding  them  to  prepare  the  barriers  in  Smith- 
field,  with  the  account  of  expenses  incurred,  is  among  the  records 
of  the  exchequer,  and  has  been  printed  in  Mr.  Nicholls's  Illustrations 
of  the  Manners  and  Expenses  of  Antient  Times  in  England,  quarto, 
1797.  It  appears  that  the  erection  of  the  barriers,  the  combat  itself, 
and  the  subsequent  execution  of  the  armourer,  occupied  the  space 
of  six  or  seven  days;  that  a  large  quantity  of  sand  and  gravel  was 
consumed  on  the  occasion,  and  that  the  place  of  battle  was  strewed 
with  rushes. — H.  N.  H. 

3.  "Barren  winter,  with  his  wrathful  nipping  cold";  Pope,  "The 
barren  winter,  with  his  nipping  cold";  Capell,  "Bare  winter  with  his 
wrathful  nipping  cold";  Mitford,  "The  barren  winter  with  his  wrath- 
ful cold."— I.  G. 

60 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  li.  Sc.  iv. 

So  cares  and  joys  abound,  as  seasons  fleet. 
Sirs,  what 's  o'clock  ? 

Serv.  Ten,  my  lord. 

Glou.  Ten  is  the  hour  that  was  appointed  me 
To  watch  the  coming  of  my  punish'd  duchess: 
Uneath  may  she  endure  the  flinty  streets. 
To  tread  them  with  her  tender- feeling  feet. 
Sweet  Nell,  ill  can  thy  noble  mind  abrook      10 
The  abject  people  gazing  on  thy  face, 
With  envious  looks  laughing  at  thy  shame. 
That  erst  did  follow  thy  proud  chariot-wheels, 
When  thou  didst  ride  in  triumph  through  the 

streets. 
But,  soft !  I  think  she  comes ;  and  I  '11  prepare 
My  tear-stain'd  eyes  to  see  her  miseries. 

Enter  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester  in  a  white  sheet, 
and  a  taper  burning  in  her  hand;  with  Sir  John 
Stanley,  the  Sheriff,  and  Officers. 

Serv.  So  please  your  grace,  we  '11  take  her  from 

the  sheriff. 
Glou.  No,  stir  not,  for  your  lives;  let  her  pass  by. 
Duch.  Come  you,  my  lord,  to  see  my  open  shame? 
Now  thou  dost  penance  too.     Look  how  they 
gaze !  20 

See  liow  the  giddy  multitude  do  point. 
And  nod  their  heads,  and  throw  their  eyes  on 
thee! 

5.  "ten";  Steevens,  " 'Tis  len  o'clock";  Lettsom,  from  Qq.,  "Ti* 
almost   ten." — I.  G. 

12.  "laughbKf;  so  F.  1;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "still  laughing";  Hudson  (Lett- 
som conj.)   "and  laughing." — I.  G. 

61 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

All,  Gloucester,  hide  thee  from  their  hateful 

looks, 
And,  in  thy  closet  pent  up,  rue  my  shame, 
And  ban  thine  enemies,  both  mine  and  thine! 

GIou.  Be  patient,  gentle  Nell;  forget  this  grief. 

Duch.  All,  Gloucester,  teach  me  to  forget  myself. 
For  whilst  I  think  I  am  thy  married  wife, 
And  thou  a  prince,  protector  of  this  land, 
Methinks  I  should  not  thus  be  led  along,        30 
Mail'd  up  in  shame,  with  papers  on  my  back, 
And  follow'd  with  a  rabble  that  rejoice 
To  see  my  tears  and  hear  my  deep-fet  groans. 
The  ruthless  flint  doth  cut  my  tender  feet. 
And  when  I  start,  the  envious  people  laugh. 
And  bid  me  be  advised  how  I  tread. 
All,  Humphrey,  can  I  bear  this  shameful  yoke? 
Trow'st  thou  that  e'er  I  '11  look  upon  the  world. 
Or  count  them  happy  that  enjoy  the  sun? 
No;  dark  shall  be  my  Hght  and  night  my  day;  40 
To  think  upon  my  pomp  shall  be  my  hell. 
Sometime  I  '11  say,  I  am  Duke  Humphrey's 

wife. 
And  he  a  prince  and  ruler  of  the  land: 

25.  "thine  enemies";  F.  4,  "their  enemies";  Rowe,  "our  enemies" 
—I.  G. 

31.  "Mail'd  up  in  shame"  that  is  wrapped  or  bundled  up  in  dis- 
grace, referring,  of  course,  to  the  sheet  of  penance.  Thus  Randell 
Holme:  "Mail  a  hawk  is  to  wrap  her  up  in  a  handkerchief  or  other 
cloath,  that  she  may  not  be  able  to  stir  her  wings  or  struggle." 
And  in  Drayton's  Epistle  of  Eleanor  Cobham  to  Duke  Humphrey : 

"Should  after  see  me  mayld  up  in  a  sheet, 
Doe  shameful  penance  three  times  in  tlie  street." — H.  N.  H. 

31.  "toith  papers  on  my  back";  "criminals  undergoing  punishment 
usually  wore  papers  on  their  backs  containing  their  oifence." — I.  G. 

62 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  li.  Sc.  iv. 

Yet  so  he  ruled,  and  such  a  prince  he  was, 
As  he  stood  by  whilst  I,  his  forlorn  duchess, 
Was  made  a  wonder  and  a  pointing-stock 
To  every  idle  rascal  follower. 
But  be  thou  mild  and  blush  not  at  my  shame. 
Not  stir  at  nothing  till  the  axe  of  death 
Hang  over  thee,  as,  sure,  it  shortly  will;  50 

For  Suffolk — he  that  can  do  all  in  all 
With  her  that  hateth  thee  and  hates  us  all — 
And  York  and  impious  Beaufort,  that  false 

priest. 
Have  all  limed  bushes  to  betray  thy  wings, 
And,  fly  thou  how  thou  canst,  they  '11  tangle 

thee ; 
But  fear  not  thou,  until  thy  foot  be  snared, 
Nor  never  seek  prevention  of  thy  foes. 

57.  The  thirty-one  lines  of  this  speech  are  an  expansion,  but  scarce 
an  improvement  of  twenty -three  in  the  quarto: 

"Ah,  Gloster!  teach  me  to  forget  myself; 
For,  whilst  I  think  I  am  thy  wedded  wife, 
'Jlie  thought  of  this  doth  kill  my  woful  heart. 
The  ruthless  flints  do  cut  my  tender  feet, 
And  when  I  start  the  cruel  people  laugh. 
And  bid  me  be  advised  how  I  tread; 
And  thus,  with  burning  taper  in  my  hand, 
Mail'd  up  in  shame,  with  papers  on  my  back. 
Ah,  Gloster!  can  I  endure  this  and  live? 
Sometime  I'll  say  I  am  Duke  Hunii)hrey's  wife. 
And  he  a  prince,  protector  of  the  land; 
But  so  he  rul'd,  and  such  a  prince  he  was. 
As  he  stood  by,  whilst  I,  his  forlorn  duchess, 
Was  led  with  shame,  and  made  a  laughing-stock 
To  every  idle  rascal  follower. — 
Be  thou  mild,  and  stir  not  at  ray  disgrace. 
Until  the  axe  of  death  hang  o'er  thy  head. 
As,  sure,  it  shortly  will.     For  Suffolk,  he, — 
The  new-made  duke,  that  may  do  all  in  all 

63 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  SECOND  PART  OE 

Gloii.  Ah  Nell,  forbear!  thou  aimest  all  awry; 
I  must  offend  before  I  be  attainted; 
And  had  I  twenty  times  so  many  foes,  60 

And  each  of  them  had  twenty  times  their  power, 
All  these  could  not  procure  me  any  scathe, 
So  long  as  I  am  loyal,  true  and  crimeless. 
Wouldst  have  me  rescue  thee  from  this  re- 
proach ? 
Why,  yet  thy  scandal  were  not  wiped  away, 
But  I  in  danger  for  the  breach  of  law. 
Thy  greatest  help  is  quiet,  gentle  Nell: 
I  pray  thee,  sort  thy  heart  to  patience; 
These  few  days'  wonder  will  be  quickly  worn. 

Enter  a  Herald, 

Her.  I  summon  your  grace  to  his  majesty's  parlia- 
ment, 70 
riolden  at  Bury  the  first  of  this  next  month. 
Glou.  And  my  consent  ne'er  ask'd  herein  before! 
This  is  close  dealing.     Well,  I  will  be  there. 

[Exit  Herald. 
My  Nell,  I  take  my  leave:  and,  master  sheriff. 
Let  not  her  penance  exceed  the  king's  commis- 
sion. 
Sher.  An  't  please  your  grace,  here  my  commission 
stays. 
And  Sir  John  Stanley  is  appointed  now 
To  take  her  with  him  to  the  Isle  of  Man. 

V.'ith  her  that  loves  him  so,  and  hates  us  all, 
And  impious  York,  and  Beaufort,  that  false  priest, 
Have  all  lim'd  bushes  to  betray  thy  wings. 
And,  fly  thou  how  thou  canst,  they  will  entangle  thee." 

— H.  N.  H, 
64 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  iv. 

Glou.  Must  you,  Sir  John,  protect  my  lady  here? 

Stan.  So  am  I  given  in  charge,  may  't  please  your 
gracCo  80 

Glou.  Entreat  her  not  the  worse  in  that  I  pray 
You  use  her  well:  the  world  may  laugh  again; 
And  I  may  live  to  do  you  kindness  if 
You  do  it  her:  and  so,  Sir  John,  farewell! 

Duch.  What,  gone,  my  lord,  and  bid  me  not  fare- 
well! 

Glou.  Witness  my  tears,  I  cannot  stay  to  speak. 

[Exeunt  Gloucester  and  Serving-men. 

Duch.  Art  thou  gone  too?  all  comfort  go  with  thee! 
For  none  abides  with  me:  my  joy  is  death, — 
Death,  at  whose  name  I  oft  have  been  afear'd. 
Because  I  wish'd  this  world's  eternity.  90 

Stanley,  I  prithee,  go,  and  take  me  hence; 
I  care  not  whither,  for  I  beg  no  favor, 
Only  convey  me  where  thou  art  commanded. 

Stan.  Why,  madam,  that  is  to  the  Isle  of  Man; 
There  to  be  used  according  to  your  state. 

Duch.  That 's  bad  enough,  for  I  am  but  reproach: 
And  shall  I  then  be  used  reproachfully? 

Stan.  Like  to  a  duchess,  and  Duke  Humphrey's 
lady; 
According  to  that  state  you  shall  be  used. 

Duch.  Sheriff,  farewell,  and  better  than  I  fare,  100 
Although  thou  hast  been  conduct  of  my  shame. 

Sher.  It  is  my  office;  and,  madam,  pardon  me. 

Duch.  Aye,  aye,  farewell;  thy  office  is  discharged. 
Come,  Stanley,  shall  we  go? 

87.  "ffone   too?";  so   Ff.  2,  3,  4;    F.   1,  "gone   to?";  Collier  MS., 
"ffonc  so?"— I.  G. 

65 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Stan.  Madam,  your  penance  done,  throw  off  this 
sheet, 
And  go  we  to  attire  you  for  our  journey. 
Duck.  My  shame  will  not  be  shifted  with  my  sheet: 
No,  it  will  hang  upon  my  richest  robes. 
And  show  itself,  attire  me  how  I  can. 
Go,  lead  the  way;  I  long  to  see  my  prison.    HO 

[Evceunt. 

110.  This  impatience  of  a  high  spirit  is  very  natural.  It  is  not  so 
dreadful  to  be  imprisoned  as  it  is  desirable  in  a  state  of  disgrace 
to  be  sheltered  from  the  scorn  of  gazers. — H.  N.  H. 


m 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  THIRD 
Scene  I 

The  Abbey  at  Bury  St.  Edmund's. 

Sound  a  Sennet.  Enter  King,  Queen,  Cardinal 
Beaufort,  Suffolk,  York,  Buckingham,  Salis- 
bury and  Warwick  to  the  Parliament. 

Kinsc.  I  muse  mv  Lord  of  Gloucester  is  not  come 
'Tis  not  his  wont  to  be  the  hindmost  man, 
Whate'er  occasion  keeps  him  from  us  now. 

Queen.  Can  you  not  see ?  or  will  ye  not  observe 
The  strangeness  of  his  alter'd  countenance? 
With  what  a  majesty  he  bears  himself, 
How  insolent  of  late  he  is  become, 
How  proud,  how  peremptory,  and  unlike  him- 
self? 
We  know  the  time  since  he  was  mild  and  affable, 
And  if  we  did  but  glance  a  far-off  look,       10 
Immediately  he  was  upon  his  knee, 
That  all  the  court  admired  him  for  submission; 
But  meet  him  now,  and,  be  it  in  the  morn, 
When  every  one  will  give  the  time  of  day. 
He  knits  his  brow  and  shows  an  angry  eye. 
And  passeth  by  with  stiff  unbowed  knee. 
Disdaining  duty  that  to  us  belongs. 
Small  curs  are  not  regarded  when  thev  grin; 

67 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

But  great  men  tremble  when  the  Hon  roars ; 
And  Humphrey  is  no  Httle  man  in  England.  20 
First  note  that  he  is  near  you  in  descent, 
And  should  you  fall,  he  is  the  next  will  mount. 
Me  seemeth  then  it  is  no  policy, 
Respecting  what  a  rancorous  mind  he  bears, 
And  his  advantage  following  your  decease. 
That  he  should  come  about  your  royal  person, 
Or  be  admitted  to  your  highness'  council. 
By  flattery  hath  he  won  the  commons'  hearts, 
And  when  he  please  to  make  commotion, 
'Tis  to  be  fear'd  they  all  will  follow  him.       30 
Now  'tis  the  spring,  and  weeds  are  shallow- 
rooted  ; 
Suffer  them  now,  and  they  '11  o'er  grow  the 

garden, 
And  choke  the  herbs  for  want  of  husbandry. 
The  reverent  care  I  bear  unto  my  lord 
Made  me  collect  these  dangers  in  the  duke. 
If  it  be  fond,  call  it  a  woman's  fear; 
Which  fear  if  better  reasons  can  supplant, 
I  will  subscribe  and  say  I  wrong'd  the  duke. 
My  Lord  of  Suffolk,  Buckingham,  and  York, 
Reprove  my  allegation,  if  you  can;  40 

Or  else  conclude  my  words  effectual. 
Suf.  Well  hath  your  highness  seen  into  this  duke ; 
And,  had  I  first  been  put  to  speak  my  mind, 
I  think  I  should  have  told  your  grace's  tale. 
The  duchess  by  his  subornation. 
Upon  my  life,  began  her  devilish  practices: 
Or,  if  he  were  not  privy  to  those  faults, 

68 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 

Yet,  by  reputing  of  liis  high  descent, 
As  next  the  king  he  was  successive  heir, 
As  such  high  vaunts  of  his  nobihty,  50 

Did  instigate  the  bedlam  brain-sick  duchess 
By  wicked  means  to  frame  our  sovereign's  fall. 
Smooth  runs  the  water  where  the  brook  is  deep ; 
And  in  his  simple  s'.ow  he  harbors  treason. 
The  fox  barks  not  when  he  would  steal  the 

lamb. 
No,  no,  mj''  sovereign;  Gloucester  is  a  man 
Unsounded  yet  and  full  of  deep  deceit. 

Car.  Did  he  not,  contrary  to  form  of  law, 

Devise  strange  deaths  for  small  offences  done? 

York.  And  did  he  not,  in  his  protectorship,  60 

Levy  great  sums  of  money  through  the  realm 
For  soldiers'  pay  in  France,  and  never  sent  it? 
By  means  whereof  the  towns  each  day  revolted. 

Buck.  Tut,  these  are  petty  faults  to  faults 
unknown. 
Which  time  will  bring  to  light  in  smooth  Duke 
Humphrey. 

King.  IMy  lords,  at  once:  the  care  you  have  of  us, 
To  mow  down  thorns  that  would  annoy  our 

foot, 
Is  worthy  praise:  but,  shall  I  speak  my  con- 
science, 
Our  kinsman  Gloucester  is  as  innocent 
From  meaning  treason  to  our  royal  person,  '^0 
As  is  the  sucking  lamb  or  harmless  dove : 
The  duke  is  virtuous,  mild  and  too  well  given 

48.  "reputin(j   of  his   high   descent,"   valuing   himself   on    his   high 
descent.— H.  N.  H. 

69 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PAKT  OF 

To  dream  on  evil  or  to  work  my  downfall. 
Queen.  Ah,  what 's  more  dangerous  than  this  fond 
affiance ! 
Seems  he  a  dove?  his  feathers  are  but  borrow'd, 
For  he  's  disposed  as  the  hateful  raven : 
Is  he  a  lamb?  his  skin  is  surely  lent  him, 
For  he  's  inclined  as  is  the  ravenous  wolf. 
Who  cannot  steal  a  shape  that  means  deceit? 
Take  heed,  my  lord ;  the  welfare  of  us  all        80 
Hangs  on  the  cutting  short  that  fraudful  man. 

Enter  Somerset. 

Som.  All  health  unto  my  gracious  sovereign! 
King.  Welcome,  Lord  Somerset.     What  news 

from  France? 
So7n.  That  all  your  interest  in  those  territories 

Is  utterly  bereft  you ;  all  is  lost. 
King.  Cold  news.  Lord  Somerset:  but  God's  will 

be  done! 
York.  [Aside'l  Cold  news  for  me;  for  I  had  hope 
of  France 
As  firmly  as  I  hope  for  fertile  England. 
Thus  are  my  blossoms  blasted  in  the  bud. 
And  caterpillars  eat  my  leaves  away;  90 

But  I  will  remedy  this  gear  ere  long, 
Or  sell  my  title  for  a  glorious  grave. 

78.  "as    is  the    ravenous  wolf";    Rowe's   correction   of    Ff.,   "as   is 

.     .     .     Wolues";    Malone,   "as   are wolves";    Vaughan,   "as 

the  ravenous  wolves." — I.  G. 

83.  Here,  again,  the  Poet  anticipates.  The  parliament  at  Bury 
was  opened  February  10,  1447.  On  the  28th  of  the  same  month 
Gioster  was  found  dead.  Somerset's  return  from  France  was  not 
till  September,  1450;  in  fact,  he  did  not  enter  upon  the  regency 
till  after  this  parliament. — H.  N.  H. 

70 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 

Enter  Gloucester. 

Glou.  All  happiness  unto  my  lord  the  king! 
Pardon,  my  liege,  that  I  have  stay'd  so  long. 

Suf.  Nay,  Gloucester,  know  that  thou  art  come  too 
soon, 
Unless  thou  wert  more  loyal  than  thou  art: 
I  do  arrest  thee  of  high  treason  here. 

Glou.  Well,  Suffolk,  thou  shalt  not  see  me  blush, 
Nor  change  my  countenance  for  this  arrest: 
A  heart  unspotted  is  not  easily  daunted.       1^0 
The  purest  spring  is  not  so  free  from  mud 
As  I  am  clear  from  treason  to  mj^  sovereign: 
Who  can  accuse  me?  wherein  am  I  guilty? 

York.  'Tis  thought,  my  lord,  that  you  took  bribes 
of  France, 
And,  being  protector,  stay'd  the  soldiers'  pay; 
By  means  whereof  his  highness  hath  lost 
France. 

Glou.  Is  it  but  thought  so?  what  are  tliey  that 
think  it? 
I  never  robb'd  the  soldiers  of  their  pay. 
Nor  ever  had  one  penny  bribe  from  France. 
So  help  me  God,  as  I  have  watch'd  the  night,110 
Aye,  night  by  night,  in  studying  good  for 

England ! 
That  doit  that  e'er  I  wrested  from  the  king, 
Or  any  groat  I  hoarded  to  my  use. 
Be  brought  against  me  at  my  trial-day! 

98.  "WeU,  Suf  oik,  thou  shalt  not  see  me  blush";  the  reading  of 
F.  1;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Well,  Suf  oik,  yet  thou,"  Sec;  Malone,  from  Qq., 
"Well,  Suf  oik's  duke,  thou,"  &c.;  Dyce  (Walker  conj.),  "Well, 
Suf  oik,  well,  thou,"  &c.— I.  G. 

71 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

'No;  man}^  a  pound  of  mine  own  proper  store, 
Because  I  would  not  tax  the  needy  commons. 
Have  I  dispursed  to  the  garrisons, 
And  never  ask'd  for  restitution. 

Car.  It  serves  you  well,  my  lord,  to  say  so  much. 

Glou.  I  say  no  more  than  truth,  so  help  me  God!  120 

York.  In  your  protectorship  you  did  devise 

Strange  tortures  for  offenders  never  heard  of, 
That  England  was  defamed  by  tyranny. 

Glou.  Why,  'tis  well  known  that,  whiles  I  was 
protector. 
Pity  was  all  the  fault  that  was  in  me;- 
For  I  should  melt  at  an  offender's  tears, 
And  lowly  words  were  ransom  for  their  fault. 
Unless  it  were  a  bloody  murderer, 
Or  foul  felonious  thief  that  fleeced  poor  passen- 
gers, 
I  never  gave  them  condign  punishment:        130 
Murder  indeed,  that  bloody  sin,  I  tortured 
Above  the  felon  or  what  trespass  else. 

Suf.  My  lord,  these  faults  are  easy,  quickly 
answer'd : 
But  mightier  crimes  are  laid  unto  your  charge, 
Whereof  you  cannot  easily  purge  yourself. 
I  do  arrest  you  in  his  highness'  name ; 
And  here  commit  you  to  my  lord  cardinal 
To  keep,  until  your  further  time  of  trial. 

King.  My  Lord  of  Gloucester,  'tis  my  special  hope 
That  you  will  clear  yourself  from  all  suspect: 

133.  "easy";    Collier    MS.,    "easily";    Walker,    "very";    omitted    by 
Wordsworth. — I.  G. 

140.  The   original   has   suspence   here,  which    Steevens   changed   t© 
suspect. — H.  N.  H. 

72 


Glo.     "  Be  oatient,  gentle  Nell ;  forget  tms  gnef. 
Duch.     "Ah,  Gloucester,  teach  me  to  forget  myself!  " 

Henry  VI.     Part  2.     Act  2,  Scene  4. 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  in.  Sc.  i. 

My  conscience  tells  me  you  are  innocent.        141 
Glou.  All,  gracious  lord,  these  days  are  dangerous: 
Virtue  is  choked  with  foul  ambition, 
And  charity  chased  hence  by  rancor's  hand; 
Foul  subornation  is  predominant, 
And  equity  exiled  your  highness'  land. 
I  know  their  complot  is  to  have  my  life ; 
And  if  my  death  might  make  this  island  happy, 
And  prove  the  period  of  their  tyranny, 
I  would  expend  it  with  all  willingness :  150 

But  mine  is  made  the  prologue  to  their  play; 
For  thousands  more,  that  yet  suspect  no  peril, 
Will  not  conclude  their  plotted  tragedy. 
Beaufort's  red  sparkling  eyes  blab  his  heart's 

malice, 
And  Suffolk's  cloudy  brow  his  stormy  hate; 
Sharp  Buckingham  unburthens  with  his  tongue 
The  envious  load  that  lies  upon  his  heart ; 
And  dogged  York,  that  reaches  at  the  moon, 
Whose  overweening  arm  I  have  pluck'd  back. 
By  false  accuse  doth  level  at  my  life:  160 

And  you,  my  sovereign  lady,  with  the  rest, 
Causeless  have  laid  disgraces  on  my  head. 
And  with  your  best  endeavor  have  stirr'd  up 
My  liefest  liege  to  be  mine  enemy: 
Aye,  all  of  you  have  laid  your  heads  together — ■ 
Myself  had  notice  of  your  conventicles — 
And  all  to  make  away  my  guiltless  life. 

151,  "But  mine  is,"  &c.;  Hudson  (Lettsom  conj.),  from  Qq.,  reads, 
"But  I  am,"  &c.;  "mine"="my  death."— I.  G. 

167.  This  line  was  omitted,  accidentally  no  douht,  in  Malone's 
Shake.ipi'drc  by  Boswcll.  From  thence  the  omission  has  been  de- 
rived into  many  modern  editions,  and,  among  others,  into  Singer's 

Shk-I-23  73 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

I  shall  not  want  false  witness  to  condemn  me, 
Nor  store  of  treasons  to  augment  my  guilt ; 
The  ancient  proverb  will  be  well  effected:    170 
'A  staff  is  quickly  found  to  beat  a  dog.' 

Car.  JNIy  liege,  his  railing  is  intolerable: 

If  those  that  care  to  keep  your  royal  person 
From  treason's  secret  knife  and  traitors'  rage 
Be  thus  upbraided,  chid  and  rated  at, 
And  the  offender  granted  scope  of  speech, 
'Twill  make  them  cool  in  zeal  unto  your  grace. 

Suf.  Hath  he  not  twit  our  sovereign  lady  here 
With  ignominious  words,  though  clerkly 
couch'd, 

and  Knight's.     The  merit  of  the  restoration  belongs  to  Mr.  Collier. 
— H.  N.  H. 

170.  That  is,  well  carried  into  effect,  or,  as  it  is  in  the  quarto,  fer- 
forvi'd.  Modern  editors  generally  have  changed  efected  into  af- 
fected, out  of  which  it  seems  not  easy  to  gather  any  congruent 
meaning. — Perhaps  this  speech  as  it  stands  in  the  quarto  will  fur- 
ther a  right  judgment  as  to  the  original  authorship  of  the  play: 

"Ah,  gracious  Henry!  these  days  are  dangerous: 
And  would  my  death  might  end  these  miseries, 
And  stay  their  moods  for  good  King  Henry's  sake. 
But  I  am  made  the  prologue  to  their  play. 
And  thousands  more  must  follow  after  me, 
That  dread  not  yet  their  lives'  destruction. 
Suffolk's  hateful  tongue  blahs  his  heart's  malice; 
Beaufort's  fiery  eyes  show  his  envious  mind; 
Buckingham's  proud  looks  bewray  his  cruel  thoughts; 
And  dogged  York,  that  levels  at  the  moon. 
Whose. overweening  arm  I  have  held  back; 
All  you  have  joined  to  betray  me  thus: 
And  you,  my  gracious  lady  and  sovereign  mistress, 
Causeless  have  laid  complaints  upon  my  head. 
I  shall  not  want  false  witnesses  enough. 
That  so,  amongst  you,  you  may  have  my  life. 
The  proverb  no  doubt  will  be  perform'd, — 
A  staff  is  quickly  found  to  beat  a  dog." — H.  N.  H. 

7* 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iii.  Sc.  i. 

As  if  she  had  suborned  some  to  swear  1^0 

False  allegations  to  o'erthrow  his  state? 
Queen.  But  I  can  give  the  loser  leave  to  chide. 
Glou.  Far  truer  spoke  than  meant:  I  lose,  indeed; 
Beshrew  the  winners,  for  they  play'd  me  false ! 
And  well  such  losers  may  have  leave  to  speak. 
Buck.  He  '11  wrest  the  sense  and  hold  us  here  all 
day:  - 

Lord  cardinal,  he  is  your  prisoner. 
Car.  Sirs,  take  away  the  duke,  and  guard  him  sure. 
Glou.  Ah !  thus  King  Henry  throws  away  his 
crutch, 
Before  his  legs  be  firm  to  bear  his  body.        190 
Thus  is  the  shepherd  beaten  from  thy  side. 
And  wolves  are  gnarling  who  shall  gnaw  thee 

first. 
Ah,  that  mv  fear  were  false !  ah,  that  it  were ! 
For,  good  King  Henry,  thy  decay  I  fear. 

[Eccitj  guarded. 
King.  My  lords,  what  to  your  wisdom  seemeth  best, 

Do  or  undo,  as  if  ourself  were  here. 
Queen.  What,  will  your  highness  leave  the  Parlia- 
ment ? 
King.  Aye,  Margaret;  my  heart  is  drown'd  with 
grief, 

194..  This  was  most  likely  sugpested  by  the  followiiisr  from  Holin- 
shed:  "Ofttimcs  it  hapneth  that  a  man,  in  quenching  of  smoke, 
burneth  his  fingers  in  the  fire:  so  the  queene,  in  casting  how  to 
keepe  hir  husband  in  honor,  and  hirselfe  in  authoritie,  in  making 
awaie  of  this  nolile  man  brought  that  to  passe  which  she  had  most 
cause  to  have  feared;  which  was  the  deposing  of  hir  husband,  and 
the  decaie  of  the  house  of  Lancaster,  which  of  likelihood  had  not 
chanced,  if  Ihis  duke  had  lived."— H.   N.  H. 

75 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OE 

Whose  flood  begins  to  flow  within  mine  eyes, 
My  body  round  engirt  with  misery,  200 

For  what 's  more  miserable  than  discontent? 
All,  uncle  Humphrey!  in  thy  face  I  see 
The  map  of  honor,  truth  and  loyalty : 
And  yet,  good  Humj)hrey,  is  the  hour  to  come 
That  e'er  I  proved  thee  false  or  f ear'd  thy  faith. 
What  louring  star  now  envies  thy  estate, 
That  these  great  lords  and  JMargaret  our  queen 
Do  seek  subversion  of  thy  harmless  life? 
Thou  never  didst  them  wrong  nor  no  man 

wrong ; 
And  as  the  butcher  takes  away  the  calf,        210 
And  binds  the  wTctch,  and  beats  it  when  it 

strays, 
Bearing  it  to  the  bloody  slaughter-house. 
Even  so  remorseless  have  they  borne  him  hence; 
And  as  the  dam  runs  lowing  up  and  down, 
Looking  the  way  her  harmless  young  one  went, 
And  can  do  nought  but  wail  her  darling's  loss, 
Even  so  myself  bewails  good  Gloucester's  case 
With  sad  unhelpful  tears,  and  with  dimm'd  eyes 
Look  after  him  and  cannot  do  him  good, 
So  mighty  are  his  vowed  enemies.  220 

His  fortunes  I  will  weep,  and  'twixt  each  groan 
Say  'Who  's  a  traitor?  Gloucester  he  is  none.' 
[Exeunt  all  hut  Queen,  Cardinal  Beaufort, 
Suffolk  and  York.     Soinerset  remaiiis  apart. 

211.  "strays";   Theobald    (adopting  the   conj.    Thirlby),  "strives"; 
Vaughan,  "strains" — I.  G. 


76 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iii.  Sc.  i. 

Queen.  Free  lords,  cold  snow  melts  with  the  sun's 
hot  beams. 
Henry  my  lord  is  cold  in  great  affairs, 
Too  full  of  foolish  pity,  and  Gloucester's  show 
Beguiles  him,  as  the  mournful  crocodile 
With  sorrow  snares  relenting  passengers, 
Or  as  the  snake  roll'd  in  a  flowering  bank. 
With  shining  checker'd  slough,  doth  sting  a 

child 
That  for  the  beauty  thinks  it  excellent.  230 

Believe  me,  lords,  were  none  more  wise  than  I — 
And  yet  herein  I  judge  mine  own  with  good — 
This  Gloucester  should  be  quickly  rid  the  worl 
To  rid  us  from  the  fear  we  have  of  him. 

Car.  That  he  should  die  is  worthy  policy; 
But  yet  we  want  a  color  for  his  death: 
'Tis  meet  he  be  condemn'd  by  course  of  law. 

Siif.-  But,  in  my  mind,  that  were  no  policy: 
The  king  will  labor  still  to  save  his  life. 
The  commons  haply  rise,  to  save  his  life ;      240 
And  yet  we  have  but  trivial  argument, 
More  than  mistrust,  that  shows  him  worthy 
death. 

York.  So  that,  by  this,  you  w^ould  not  have  him  die. 

Siif.  Ah,  York,  no  man  alive  so  fain  as  I ! 

York.  'Tis  York  that  hath  more  reason  for  his 
death. 
But,  my  lord  cardinal,  and  you,  my  Lord  of 

Suffolk, 
Say  as  you  think,  and  speak  it  from  your  souls: 

223.  "Free    lords";    Hanmer,    "See,    lords";    Dyce     (Collier    MS.), 
"Fair  lords";  Cambridge  editors  suggest  "My  lords."— I.  G. 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OE 

Were  't  not  all  one,  an  empty  eagle  were  set 
To  guard  the  chicken  from  a  hungry  kite, 
As  place  Duke  Humphrey  for  the  king's  pro- 
tector? 250 
Quten,  So  the  poor  chicken  should  be  sure  of  death. 
Suf.  Madam,  'tis  true ;  and  were  't  not  madness.^ 
then, 
To  make  the  fox  surveyor  of  the  fold: 
Who  being  accused  a  crafty  murderer. 
His  guilt  should  be  but  idly  posted  over, 
Because  his  purpose  is  not  executed. 
No;  let  him  die,  in  that  he  is  a  fox, 
By  nature  proved  an  enemy  to  the  flock, 
Before  his  chaps  he  stain'd  with  crimson  blood. 
As    Humphrey,    proved    by    reasons,    to    my 
liege.  260 
And  do  not  stand  on  quillets  how  to  slay  himi 
Be  it  by  gins,  by  snares,  by  subtlety, 
Sleeping  or  waking,  'tis  no  matter  how, 
So  he  be  dead;  for  that  is  good  deceit 
Which  mates  him  first  that  first  intends  deceit. 

260.  That  is,  "as  Humphrey  is  prov'd  by  reasons  to  be  an  enemy, 
to  my  liege."— H.  N.  H. 

265.  To  mate  or  amate  was  often  used  in  the  sense  of  destroy, 
confound,  or  overcome.  Mr.  Dyce,  however,  says, — "I  incline  to  be- 
lieve that  Percy  was  right,  when  he  observed  that  mates  is  used  here 
with  an  allusion  to  chess  playing.  Palsgrave,  in  his  Lesclarcissement, 
1530,  gives  not  only  'I'mate  or  overcome,  le  amatte,'  but  also  'I  mat^ 
at  the  chesses,  le  matte.'  And  in  Sir  John  Harrington's  OrUndo 
Furioso  we  have  both  amated  in  the  sense  of  confounded,  and  mated 
with  an  allusion  to  chess." 

"The  wound  was  great,  but  yet  did  greater  show; 
Which  sight  faire  Isabella  much  amated: 
The  Prince,  that  seemed  not  the  same  to  know. 
With  force  increased  rather  than  abated, 

78 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iii.  Sc.  i. 

Queen.  Thrice-noble  Suffolk,  'tis  resolutely  spoke. 

Suf.  Not  resolute,  except  so  much  were  done; 
For  things  are  often  sj^oke  and  seldom  meant : 
But  that  my  heart  accordeth  with  my  tongue. 
Seeing  the  deed  is  meritorious,  270 

And  to  preserve  my  sovereign  from  his  foe. 
Say  but  the  word,  and  I  will  be  his  priest. 

Car,  But  I  would  have  him  dead,  my  lord  of  Suf- 
folk, 
Ere  you  can  take  due  orders  for  a  priest: 
Say  you  consent  and  censure  well  the  deed. 
And  I  '11  provide  his  executioner, 
I  tender  so  the  safety  of  my  liege. 

Suf,  Here  is  my  hand,  the  deed  is  worthy  doing. 

Queen,  And  so  say  I. 

York,  And  I :  and  now  we  three  have  spoke  it.    280 
It  skills  not  greatly  who  impugns  our  doom. 

Enter  a  Post, 

Post.  Great  lords,  from  Ireland  am  I  come  amain. 
To  signify  that  rebels  there  are  up, 
And  put  the  Englishmen  unto  the  sword: 
Send  succors,  lords,  and  stop  the  rage  betime. 
Before  the  wound  do  grow  uncurable; 
For,  being  green,  there  is  great  hope  of  help. 

Car.  A  breach  that  craves  a  quick  expedient  stop! 
What  counsel  give  you  in  this  weighty  cause? 

York,  That  Somerset  be  sent  as  regent  thither:  290 

Upon  the  Pagans  brow  gave  such  a  blow 
As  would,  no  doubt,  have  made  him  checkt  and  mated, 
Save  that,  as  I  to  you  before  rehearst. 
His  armour  was  not  easie  to  be  pierst." — H.  N.  H. 
280.  "spoke";  so  Ff.;  Hanmer,  "spoken."— I.  G. 

79 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

'Tis  meet  that  lucky  ruler  be  employ'd; 
Witness  the  fortune  he  hath  had  in  France. 

Som.  If  York,  with  all  his  far-fet  pohcy, 
Had  been  the  regent  there  instead  of  me, 
He  never  would  have  stay'd  in  France  so  long. 

York.  No,  not  to  lose  it  all,  as  thou  hast  done : 
I  rather  would  have  lost  my  life  betimes 
Than  bring  a  burthen  of  dishonor  home. 
By  staying  there  so  long  till  all  were  lost. 
Show  me  one  scar  character'd  on  thy  skin:   300 
Men's  flesh  preserved  so  whole  do  seldom  win. 

Queen.  Nay,  then,  this  spark  will  prove  a  raging 
fire. 
If  wind  and  fuel  be  brought  to  feed  it  with: 
No  more,  good  York;  sweet  Somerset,  be  still: 
Thy  fortune,   York,   hadst  thou   been  regent 

there, 
Might  happily  have  proved  far  worse  than  his. 

York.  What,   worse   than   nought?   nay,   then,   a 
shame  take  all! 

Som.  And,  in  the  number,  thee  that  wishest  shame ! 

Car.  My  Lord  of  York,  try  what  your  fortune  is. 
The  uncivil  kernes  of  Ireland  are  in  arms,   310 
And  temper  clay  with  blood  of  Englishmen: 
To  Ireland  will  you  lead  a  band  of  men. 
Collected  choicely,  from  each  county  some. 
And  try  your  hap  against  the  Irishmen? 

York.  I  will,  my  lord,  so  please  his  majesty. 

Suf.  Why,  our  authority  is  his  consent, 
And  what  we  do  establisli  he  confirms: 
Then,  noble  York,  take  thou  this  task  in  hand. 

York.  I  am  content:  provide  me  soldiers,  lords, 

80 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

Whiles  I  take  order  for  mine  own  affairs.    320 
Suf.  A  charge,  Lord  York,  that  I  will  see  per- 
form'd. 
But  now  return  we  to  the  false  Duke  Hum- 
phrey. 
Car.  No  more  of  him;  for  I  will  deal  with  him, 
That  henceforth  he  shall  trouble  us  no  more. 
And  so  break  off;  the  day  is  almost  spent: 
Lord  Suffolk,  you  and  I  must  talk  of  that 
event. 
York.  My  Lord  of  Suffolk,  within  fourteen  days 
At  Bristol  I  expect  my  soldiers; 
For  there  I  '11  ship  them  all  for  Ireland. 
Suf.  I  '11  see  it  truly  done,  my  Lord  of  York.    330 

[Exeunt  all  hut  York. 
York.  Now,    York,    or   never,    steel   thy    fearful 
thoughts, 

329.  York  is  here  represented  as  just  going  to  do  what  he  has 
before  spolten  of  as  having  already  done.  Holinshed,  relating  the 
events  that  fell  out  soon  after  the  parliament  at  Bury,  has  the  fol- 
lowing: "About  the  same  time  also  besan  a  new  rebellion  in  Ire- 
land;  but  Richard,  duke  of  Yorke,  being  sent  thither  to  appease  the 
same,  so  asswaged  the  furie  of  the  wild  and  savage  people  there, 
that  he  wan  him  such  favour  amongst  them,  as  could  never  be 
separated  from  him  and  his  linage."  While  York  was  thus  winning 
in  Ireland,  Somerset  was  losing  all  in  France.  In  reference  to 
which  losses,  the  same  chronicler  states  that  "sir  David  Hall  with 
diverse  of  his  trustie  freends  departed  to  Chierburgh,  and  from 
thence  sailed  into  Ireland  to  the  duke  of  Yorke,  making  relation  to 
him  of  all  these  dooings;  which  thing  kindled  so  great  rancour  in 
the  dukes  heart  and  stomach,  that  he  never  left  persecuting  the  duke 
of  Summerset,  until  he  had  brought  him  to  his  fatal  end  and  con- 
fusion." It  was  during  his  stay  in  Ireland  that  York  first  gathered 
about  him  an  army  and  formed  it  to  his  purpose;  and  it  was  upon 
the  knowledge  of  his  having  lanjied  in  England  with  that  army 
headed  against  the  king,  that  Somerset  hastened  over  from  France 
to  thwart  him.  This  was  the  return  of  Somerset  mentioned  in  the 
note  to  1.  83  of  this  scene. — H.  N.  H. 

81 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

And  change  misdoubt  to  resolution: 
Be  that  thou  hopest  to  be,  or  what  thou  art 
Resign  to  death;  it  is  not  worth  the  enjoying: 
Let  pale-faced  fear  keep  with  the  mean-born 

man, 
And  find  no  harbor  in  a  royal  heart. 
Faster  than  spring-time  showers  comes  thought 

on  thought, 
And  not  a  thought  but  thinks  on  dignity. 
My  brain  more  busy  than  the  laboring  spider 
Weaves  tedious  snares  to  trap  mine  enemies.  340 
Well,  nobles,  well,  'tis  politicly  done. 
To  send  me  packing  with  an  host  of  men : 
I  fear  me  you  but  warm  the  stai-ved  snake, 
Who,  cherish'd  in  your  breasts,  will  sting  your 

hearts. 
'Twas  men  I  lack'd,  and  you  will  give  them  me : 
I  take  it  kindly;  yet  be  well  assured 
You  put  sharp  weapons  in  a  madman's  hands. 
Whiles  I  in  Ireland  nourish  a  mighty  band, 
I  will  stir  up  in  England  some  black  storm 
Shall  blow  ten  thousand  souls  to  heaven  or  hell; 
And  this  fell  tempest  shall  not  cease  to  rage  351 
Until  the  golden  circuit  on  my  head. 
Like  to  the  glorious  sun's  transparent  beams. 
Do  calm  the  fury  of  this  mad-bred  flaw. 
And,  for  a  minister  of  my  intent, 
I  have  seduced  a  headstrong  Kentishman, 
John  Cade  of  Ashford, 

348.  "nourish"  (monosyllabic ),="nurse"  (verb);  (Collier  MS.  reads 
"march").— 1.  G. 

357.  "John  Cade  of  Ashford";  Seymour  adds,  "icith  a  headlong 
creu\"—l.  G. 

82 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iii.  Sc.  i. 

To  make  commotion,  as  full  well  he  can, 
Under  the  title  of  John  Mortimer. 
In  Ireland  have  I  seen  this  stubborn  Cade    360 
Oppose  himself  against  a  troop  of  kernes, 
And  fought  so  long,  till  that  his  thighs  with 

darts 
Were  almost  like  a  sharp-quill'd  porpentine; 
And,  in  the  end  being  rescued,  I  have  seen 
Him  caper  upright  like  a  wild  Morisco, 
Shaking  the  bloody  darts  as  he  his  bells. 
Full  often,  like  a  shag-hair'd  crafty  kerne, 
Hath  he  conversed  with  the  enemv. 
And  undiscover'd  come  to  me  again, 
And  given  me  notice  of  their  villanies.  370 

This  devil  here  shall  be  my  substitute; 
For  that  John  ^lortimer,  which  now  is  dead, 
In  face,  in  gait,  in  speech,  he  doth  resemble: 
By  this  I  shall  perceive  the  commons'  mind, 
How  the}^  affect  the  house  and  claim  of  York. 
Say  he  be  taken,  rack'd  and  tortured, 
I  know  no  pain  they  can  inflict  upon  him 
Will  make  him  say  I  moved  him  to  those  arms. 
Say  that  he  thrive,  as  'tis  great  like  he  will. 
Why,    then    from    Ireland   come   I    with    my 

strength,  380 

365.  A  dancer  in  a  morris  dance,  originally,  perhaps,  meant  to 
imitate  a  Moorish  dance,  and  thence  named.  The  bells  sufficiently 
indicate  that  the  English  morris  dancer  is  intended.  It  appears 
from  Bloimt's  Olossocjraphy,  and  some  of  our  old  writers,  that  the 
dance  itself  was  called  a  morisco.  Florio,  in  the  first  edition  of 
his  Italian  Dictionary,  defines  "Moresca,  a  kind  of  morice  or  an- 
tique dance,  after  the  Moorish  or  Ethiopian  fashion." — H.  N.  H. 


83 


Act  in.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Aiid    reap    the    harvest    which    that    rascal 

sow'd ; 
For  Humphrey  being  dead,  as  he  shall  be. 
And  Henry  put  apart,  the  next  for  me. 


Scene  II 

Bury  St.  Edmund's.     A  room  of  state. 

Enter  certain  Murderers,  hastily. 

First  Mur.  Run  to  my  Lord  of  Suffolk;  let  him 
know 
We  have  dispatch'd  the  duke,  as  he  commanded. 
Sec.  Mur.  O  that  it  were  to  do!     What  have  we 
done? 
Didst  ever  hear  a  man  so  penitent? 

Enter  Suffolk. 

First  Mur.  Hence  comes  my  lord. 

Suf.  Now,  sirs,  have  you  dispatch'd  this  thing? 

383.  Tliere  is  no  proof  that  York  was  any  way  privy  to  the  in- 
surrection of  Cade,  save  that  it  fell  out  very  opportune  to  his  pur- 
pose, and  those  engaged  in  it  were  generally  favorable  to  his  claim: 
for  which  cause  he  was  naturally  suspected  to  have  set  it  on  foot; 
and  that  suspicion,  ripened  into  belief,  was  no  doubt  handed  down 
to  the  Poet's  time  in  the  bundle  of  "Lancastrian  prejudices."  This 
speech  of  York's,  however,  makes  a  capital  point  in  the  drama,  as 
it  represents  him  to  have  been  the  conscious  designer,  as  in  fact  he 
was  to  a  great  extent  the  real  occasion,  of  the  following  events;  and 
it  was  plainly  more  dramatic  to  set  him  forth  as  the  maker  of 
circumstances  than  as  merely  the  user  of  them.  In  the  quarto  this 
speech  has  but  twenty-five  lines,  which  are  here  rather  consolidated 
than  expanded  into  fifty-three. — H.  N.  H. 

84 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iii.  Sc.  ii. 

First  Mur.  Aye,  my  good  lord,  he  's  dead. 
Suf.  Why,  that 's  well  said.     Go,  get  you  to  my 
house ; 

I  will  reward  you  for  this  venturous  deed. 

The  king  and  all  the  peers  are  here  at  hand.    10 

Have  you  laid  fair  the  bed?    Is  all  things  well, 

According  as  I  gave  directions? 
First  Mur.  'Tis,  my  good  lord. 
Suf.  Away,  be  gone.  [Exeunt  Murderers. 

Sound  trumpets.     Enter   the   King,   the   Queen, 
Cardinal  Beaufort,  Somerset,  with  Attendants. 

King.  Go,  call  our  uncle  to  our  presence  straight; 
Say  we  intend  to  try  his  grace  to-day, 

14.  The  common  belief  of  the  people,  and  the  no  less  common 
report  of  the  chroniclers  was,  that  the  duke  of  Gloster  was  mur- 
dered, by  procurement  of  the  queen,  Suffolk,  and  Somerset:  which 
would  doubtless  have  justified  the  Poet's  representation,  even  if 
he  had  known  the  truth  to  be  otherwise;  for  the  very  fact  of  such 
a  belief  proves,  in  some  sort,  that  the  thing  believed  was  consonant 
to  the  spirit  of  the  time.  The  strongest  argument  in  the  question 
is  derived  from  Whethamstede,  abbot  of  St.  Albans,  and  is  strongly 
stated  by  Lingard,  thus:  "That  writer,  who  had  received  many 
benefits  from  the  duke,  was  much  attached  to  his  memory,  which 
he  vindicates  on  all  occasions,  and  equally  prejudiced  against  his 
enemies,  whom  he  calls  canes,  scorpiones,  impii  susurrones.  And 
yet,  though  he  wrote  when  the  royal  party  was  humbled  in  the 
dust,  and  he  had  of  course  nothing  to  fear  from  their  resentment, 
he  repeatedly  asserts  that  the  duke  fell  ill  immediately  after  his 
arrest,  and  died  of  his  illness.  'Fecit  eum  arrestari,  ponique  in 
tam  arta  custodia,  quod  prae  tristitia  decideret  in  lectum  a;gritu- 
dinis,  et  infra  paucos  dies  posterius  secederet  in  fata.' "  He  was 
arrested  on  the  second  day  of  the  parliament  at  Bury,  and  seven- 
teen days  after  was  found  dead  in  his  bed.  Holinshed  gives  this 
character  of  him:  "He  was  an  upright  and  politike  governour, 
bending  all  his  indevours  to  the  advancement  of  the  commonwealth; 
verie  lovinc;  to  the  poore  commons,  and  so  beloved  of  them  againe; 
learned,  wise,  full  of  courtesic,  void  of  pride  and  ambition,  out 
where  it  is  most  commendable." — H.  N.  H. 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

If  he  be  guilty,  as  'tis  published. 
Suf.  1 11  call  him  presently,  my  noble  lord. 

[Exit. 
King,  Lords,  take  your  places ;  and,  I  pray  you  all, 
Proceed  no  straiter  'gainst  our  uncle  Glouces- 
ter 20 
Than  from  true  evidence  of  good  esteem 
He  be  approved  in  practice  culpable. 
Queen.  God  forbid  any  malice  should  prevail, 
That  faultless  may  condemn  a  nobleman! 
Pray  God  he  may  acquit  him  of  suspicion! 
King.  I  thank  thee,  Nell;  these  words  content  me 
much. 

Re-enter  Suffolk. 

How  now!  why  look'st  thou  pale?  why  trem- 

blest  thou? 
Where  is  our  uncle?  what's  the  matter,  Suf- 
folk? 
Suf.  Dead  in  his  bed,  my  lord;  Gloucester  is  dead. 
Queen.  Marry,  God  forfend.  30 

Car.  God's  secret  judgment:  I  did  dream  to-night 
The  duke  was  dumb  and  could  not  speak  a 
word.  [The  King  swoons. 

Queen.  How  fares  my  lord?    Help,  lords!  the  king 

is  dead. 
So7?i.  Rear  up  his  body;  wring  him  by  the  nose. 
Queen.  Run,  go,  help,  help!    O  Henry,  ope  thine 
eyes! 

26.  "Nell";  Theobald,  "Well";  Capel),  "Meg";  Malone,  "Marfjaret"; 
Clark  MS.,  "well"  The  playwright  here,  as  in  other  places  (rji. 
below,  11.  79,  100,  120),  seems,  by  some  strange  error,  to  have  thought 
of  Eleanor  instead  of  Margaret. — I.  G. 

86 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Suf.  He  doth  revive  again:  Madam,  be  patient. 

King.  O  heavenly  God! 

Queen.  How  fares  my  gracious  lord? 

Suf.  Comfort,    my    sovereign!    gracious    Henry, 
comfort! 

King,  What,  doth  my  Lord  of  Suffolk  comfort 
me? 
Came  he  right  now  to  sing  a  raven's  note,    40 
Whose  dismal  tune  bereft  my  vital  powers; 
And  thinks  he  that  the  chirping  of  a  wren, 
By  crying  comfort  from  a  hollow  breast. 
Can  chase  away  the  first-conceived  sound? 
Hide  not  thy  poison  with  such  sugar'd  words ; 
Lay  not  thy  hands  on  me ;  forbear,  I  say ; 
Their  touch  affrights  me  as  a  serpent's  sting. 
Thou  baleful  messenger,  out  of  my  sight! 
Upon  thy  eye-balls  murderous  tyranny 
Sits  in  grim  majesty,  to  fright  the  world.       50 
Look  not  upon  me,  for  thine  eyes  are  wound- 
ing : 
Yet  do  not  go  away:  come,  basilisk, 

52.  The  hasUlsk,  from  PacnXiaKos,  is  so  called,  says  Richardson, 
"ciMier  because  it  hath  on  its  head  something  white  like  a  diadem, 
or  because  all  otlier  kinds  of  serpents  flee  from  its  superior  strength." 
Thus  in  Holland's  PUny:  "The  like  propcrtie  hath  the  serpent 
called  a  basiliske  :—a.  white  spot  or  starre  it  carricth  on  the  head, 
and  setteth  it  out  like  a  coronet  or  diadem."  The  old  notion  touch- 
ing this  serpent  is  shown  by  Cliauoer  in  The  Persones  Tale:  "Tliat 
sleth  right  as  the  Basilicok  sleth  folk  by  venime  of  his  sight."  So 
in  Albion's  England: 

"That  did  with  easy  sight  enforce  a  basilisk  to  flie, 
Albeit  naturally  that  beast  doth  murtbcr  with  the  eye." 

Under  this  notion  Shakespeare  has  several  allusions  to  "that  beast." 
Thus  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  Act  i.  sc.  2:      . 

87 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Aiid  kill  the  innocent  gazer  with  thy  sight ; 
For  in  the  shade  of  death  I  shall  find  joy; 
In   life    but    double    death,    now    Gloucester's 

dead. 
Queen.  Why  do  you  rate  mj^  Lord  of   Suffolk 
. thus? 
Although  the  duke  was  enemy  to  him. 
Yet  he  most  Christian-like  laments  his  death: 
And  for  myself,  foe  as  he  was  to  me. 
Might  liquid  tears,  or  heart-offending  groans, 
Or  blood-consuming  sighs  recall  his  life,  61 

I    would    be    blind    with    weeping,    sick    with 

groans, 
Look    pale    as    primrose    with    blood-drinking 

sighs, 
And  all  to  have  the  noble  duke  alive. 
What  know  I  how  the  world  may  deem  of  me? 
For  it  is  known  we  were  but  hollow  friends: 
It  maj^  be  judged  I  made  the  duke  away; 
So   shall  my  name  with  slander's   tongue  be 

wounded. 
And  princes'  courts  be  fill'd  with  my  reproach. 
This  get  I  by  his  death:  aye  me,  unhappy!    70 
To  be  a  queen,  and  crown'd  with  infamy! 
King.  Ah,  woe   is  me   for   Gloucester,   wretched 

man! 
Queen.  Be  woe  for  me,  more  wretched  than  he  is. 

"Make  me  not  sighted  like  the  basilisk: 
I  have  look'd  on  thousands,  who  have  sped  the  better 
By  m7  regard,  but  kill'd  none  so." — H.  N.  H. 

70.  "aye  tne";  Pope  reads  "ah  me." — I.  G. 

73.  That  is,  let  not  woe   be  to  thee   for  Gloster,   but   for  me.— 

H.  N.  H. 

88 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  in.  Sc.  ii. 

What,  dost  thou  turn  away  and  hide  thy  face? 
I  am  no  loathsome  leper ;  look  on  me. 
What!  art  thou,  like  the  adder,  waxen  deaf? 
Be  poisonous  too  and  kill  thy  forlorn  queen. 
Is  all  thy  comfort  shut  in  Gloucester's  tomh? 
Why,  then,  dame  Eleanor  was  ne'er  thy  joy. 
Erect  his  statue  and  worship  it,  80 

And  make  my  image  but  an  alehouse  sign. 
Was  I  for  this  nigh  wreck'd  upon  the  sea, 
And  twice  by  awkward  wind  from  England's 

bank 
Drove  back  again  unto  my  native  clime? 
W^liat  boded  this,  but  well  forewarning  wind 
Did  seem  to  say  'Seek  not  a  scorpion's  nest, 
Nor  set  no  footing  on  this  unkind  shore'? 
What  did  I  then,  but  cursed  the  gentle  gusts, 
And  he  that  loosed  them   forth  their   brazen 

caves ; 
And  bid  them  blow  towards  England's  blessed 

shore,  90 

Or  turn  our  stern  upon  a  dreadful  rock? 
Yet  iEolus  would  not  be  a  murderer. 
But  left  that  hateful  office  unto  thee: 
The  pretty-vaulting  sea  refused  to  drown  me, 
Knowing  that  thou  wouldst  have  me  drown'd 

on  shore, 

IS-in  struck  out  in  Collier  IMS.— I.  G. 

79.  "Eleanor";  cp.  sujyra,  Note,  III.  ii.  26.— I.  G. 

80.  "Statue  and  worship  it";  Keightlcy  correction  of  Ff.,  "Statue, 
and  worsJup  it";  Rowe  reads  "statue,  and  do  icorshlp  to  it";  Capell, 
"statue  then,  and  icorship  it";  Dyce,  "statua  and  worship  it." — I.  G. 

88.  "gentle";  Singer  (Anon.  MS.  conj.  and  Collier  MS.)  reads 
"unfjentle,"  destroying  the  whole  point  of  the  passage. — I.  G. 

89.  "he"  i.  e.  ..Eolus,  the  God  of  the  winds.— I.  G. 

89 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

With  tears  as  salt  as  sea,  through  thy  unkind- 

ness: 
The    sphtting   rocks    cower'd    in   the    sinking 

sands, 
And  would  not  dash  me  with  their  ragged  sides, 
Because  thy  flinty  heart,  more  hard  than  they, 
Might  in  thy  palace  perish  Eleanor.  100 

As  far  as  I  could  ken  thy  chalky  cliffs. 
When  from  thy  shore  the  tempest  beat  us  back, 
I  stood  upon  the  hatches  in  the  storm. 
And  when  the  dusky  sky  began  to  rob 
My  earnest-gaping  sight  of  thy  land's  view, 
I  took  a  costly  jewel  from  my  neck — 
A  heart  it  was,  bound  in  with  diamonds — 
And  threw  it  towards  thy  land :  the  sea  received 

it, 
And  so  I  wish'd  thj'-  body  might  my  heart: 
And    even   with   this    I    lost    fair    England's 

view,  110 

And  bid  mine  eyes  be  packing  with  my  heart. 
And  call'd  them  bhnd  and  dusky  spectacles. 
For  losing  ken  of  Albion's  wished  coast. 
How  often  have  I  tempted  Suffolk's  tongue. 
The  agent  of  thy  foul  inconstancy, 
To  sit  and  witch  me,  as  Ascanius  did. 
When  he  to  madding  Dido  would  unfold 
His  father's  acts  commenced  in  burning  Troy! 
Am  I  not  witch'd  like  her?  or  thou  not  false  Hke 

him? 


100.  "Eleanor"  cp.  supra,  Note,  III.  ii.  26.— T.  G. 
116.  "vnich,"  Theobald's  emendation  for  Ff.  "watch."     "Ascanius; 
son  of  iEneas,  in  whose  form  Cupid  appeared  to  Dido." — C.  H.  H 

90 


« 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  in.  Sc.  ii. 

Aye  me,  I  can  no  more!  die,  Eleanor!  120 

For  Henry  weeps  that  thou  dost  live  so  long. 

Noise  witJiin.     Enter  Warwick,  Salisbury, 
and  many  Commons. 

War.  It  is  reported,  mighty  sovereign. 

That   good    Duke    Humphrey    traitorously    is 

murder'd 
By  Suffolk  and  the  Cardinal  Beaufort's  means. 
The  commons,  like  an  angry  hive  of  bees 
That  want  their  leader,  scatter  up  and  down. 
And  care  not  who  they  sting  in  his  revenge. 
INIyself  have  calm'd  their  spleenful  mutiny. 
Until  thev  hear  the  order  of  his  death. 

King.  That  he  is  dead,  good  Warwick,  'tis  too 
true ;  130 

But  how  he  died  God  knows,  not  Henry; 
Enter  his  chamber,  view  his  breathless  corpse. 
And  comment  then  upon  his  sudden  death. 

War.  That  shall  I  do,  my  liege.     Stay,  Salisbury, 
With  the  rude  multitude  till  I  return.       [Edit. 

King.  O  Thou  that  judgest  all  things,  stay  my 
thoughts, 
INIy  thoughts,  that  labor  to  persuade  my  soul 
Some  violent  hands  were  laid  on  Humplu'ey's 

Hfe! 
If  my  suspect  be  false,  forgive  me,  God; 
For  judgment  only  doth  belong  to  Thee.      HO 
Fain  would  I  go  to  chafe  his  paly  lips 
With  twenty  thousand  kisses,  and  to  drain 
Upon  his  face  an  ocean  of  salt  tears, 
To  tell  my  love  unto  his  dumb  deaf  trunk, 

91 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

And  with  my  fingers  feel  his  hand  unfeeUng: 
But  all  in  vain  are  these  mean  obsequies; 
And  to  survey  his  dead  and  earthy  image, 
What  were  it  but  to  make  my  sorrow  greater? 

Re-enter  Warwick  and  others,  bearing  Glouces- 
ter's body  on  a  bed. 

War,  Come  hither,  gracious  sovereign,  view  this 

body. 
King.  That  is  to  see  how  deep  my  grave  is  made; 
For  with  his  soul  fled  all  my  worldly  solace,  151 
For  seeing  him  I  see  my  life  in  death. 
War.  As  surely  as  my  soul  intends  to  live 

With  that  dread  King,  that  took  our  state  upon 

him 
To  free  us  from  his  father's  wrathful  curse, 
I  do  believe  that  violent  hands  were  laid 
Upon  the  life  of  this  thrice-famed  duke. 
Suf.  A    dreadful    oath,    sworn    with    a    solemn 
tongue ! 
What  instance  gives  Lord  Warwick   for  his 
vow? 
War.  See  how  the  blood  is  settled  in  his  face.    160 
Oft  have  I  seen  a  timely-parted  ghost, 
Of  ashy  semblance,  meager,  pale  and  bloodless. 
Being  all  descended  to  the  laboring  heart; 

147.  "earthy";  the  reading  of  F.  1 ;  Ff.  '2,  3,  4,  "earthly."— I.  G. 

152.  "For  seeing  him  I  see  my  life  in  death";  F.  4  reads  "For 
.  .  .  life  is  Death";  Johnson,  "For  .  .  .  death  in  life";  Capell, 
"And  .  .  .  death  in  life";  Rann,  "And  .  .  .  life  in  death"; 
Vaughan,  "So     .    .     .    myself  in  death." — I.  G. 

161.  "a  timely-parted  ghost"  the  body  of  one  that  has  died  a 
natural  death.— C.  H.  H.' 

1G3.  "being  all  descended"  i.  e.  "the  blood  being." — I.  G. 

92 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Who,  in  the  conflict  that  it  holds  witli  death, 
Attracts    the    same    for    aidance    'gainst    the 

enemy ; 
Which  with  the  heart  there  cools  and  ne'er  ra- 
ta rneth 
To  hlush  and  beautify  the  cheek  again. 
But  see,  his  face  is  black  and  full  of  blood, 
His  eye-balls  further  out  than  when  he  lived, 
Staring  full  ghastly  like  a  strangled  man ;     170 
His  hair  uprear'd,  his  nostrils  stretch'd  with 

struggling; 
His  hands  abroad  display'd,  as  one  that  grasp'd 
And  tugg'd  for  life  and  w^as  by  strength  sub- 
dued : 
Look,  on  the  sheets  his  hair,  you  see,  is  sticking; 
His  well-proportion'd  beard  made  rough  and 

rugged, 
Like  to  the  summer's  corn  by  tempest  lodged. 
It  cannot  be  but  he  was  murder'd  here; 
The  least  of  all  these  signs  were  probable. 
Suf.  Why,  Warwick,  who  should  do  the  duke  to 
death? 
^lyself  and  Beaufort  had  him  in  protection;  180 
And  we,  I  hope,  sir,  are  no  murderers. 
War.  But  both  of  you  were  vow'd  Duke  Hum- 
phrey's  foes. 
And  you,  forsooth,  had  the  good  duke  to  keep : 
'Tis  like  you  would  not  feast  him  like  a  friend; 
And  'tis  well  seen  he  found  an  enemy. 

182.  ''But  both  of  you  were  vow'd  Duke  Humphrey's  foes,"  the 
reading  of  F.  1;  F.  2,  "were  .  .  .  death":  Ff."  3,  4,  "have 
•    .    .    death";  Capell  first  suggested  true  reading. — I.  G. 

93 


Act  111.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Quee7i.  Then  you,  belike,  suspect  these  noblemen 
As  guilty  of  Duke  Humphrey's  timeless  death. 
War.  Who   finds   the  heifer   dead   and   bleeding 
fresh, 
And  sees  fast  by  a  butcher  with  an  axe, 
But  will  suspect  'twas  he  that  made  the  slaugh- 
ter? 190 
Who  finds  the  partridge  in  the  puttock's  nest, 
But  may  imagine  how  the  bird  was  dead, 
Although  the  kite  soar  with  unbloodied  beak? 
Even  so  suspicious  is  this  tragedy. 
Queen.  Are  you  the  butcher,  Suffolk?      Where's 
your  knife? 
Is  Beaufort  term'd  a  kite?    Where  are  his  tal- 
ons? 
Suf.  I  wear  no  knife  to  slaughter  sleeping  men ; 
But  here  's  a  vengeful  sword,  rusted  with  ease. 
That  shall  be  scoured  in  his  rancorous  heart 
That    slanders    me    with    murder's    crimson 
badge.                                                              200 
Say,  if  thou  darest,  proud  Lord  of  Warwick- 
shire, 
That  I  am  faulty  in  Duke  Humphrey's  death. 
[^Exeunt  Cardinal,  Somerset,  and  others. 
War.  What  dares  not  Warwick,  if  false  Suffolk 

dare  him? 
Queen.  He  dares  not  calm  his  contumelious  spirit, 
Nor  cease  to  be  an  arrogant  controller, 
Though    Suffolk   dare   him   twenty    thousand 
times. 

193.  "was  dead";  Vaughan,  "is  dead,"  or  "was  deaded"  or  "wai 
ended."— I.  G. 

«4 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  in.  Sc.  u. 

War.  Madam,  be  still;  with  reverence  may  I  say; 
For  every  word  you  speak  in  his  behalf 
Is  slander  to  your  royal  dignity. 
Suf.  Blunt-witted  lord,  ignoble  in  demeanor!    210 
If  ever  lady  wrong'd  her  lord  so  much, 
Thy  mother  took  into  her  blameful  bed 
Some  stern  untutor'd  churl,  and  noble  stock 
Was  graft  with  crab-tree  slip;  whose  fruit  thou 

art 
And  never  of  the  Nevils'  noble  race. 
War.  But  that  the  guilt  of  murder  buckles  thee. 
And  I  should  rob  the  deathsman  of  his  fee. 
Quitting  thee  thereby  of  ten  thousand  shames, 
Aiid  that  my  sovereign's  presence  makes  me 
mild,  219 

I  would,  false  murderous  coward,  on  thy  knee 
Make  thee  beg  pardon  for  thy  passed  speech, 
And  say  it  was  thy  mother  that  thou  meant'st, 
That  thou  thyself  w^as  born  in  bastardy; 
And  after  all  this  fearful  homage  done, 
Give  thee  thy  hire  and  send  thy  soul  to  hell, 
Pernicious  blood-sucker  of  sleeping  men! 
Suf.  Thou  shalt  be  waking  while  I  shed  thy  blood, 
If  from  this  presence  thou  darest  go  with  me. 
War.  Away  even  now,  or  I  will  drag  thee  hence : 
Unworthy   though    thou    art,    1 11   cope   with 
thee  230 

And  do   some  service  to   Duke   Humphrey's 
ghost.  [^Exeunt  Suffolk  and  Warxvick. 

King.  What  stronger  breastplate  than  a  heart  un- 
tainted ! 
Thrice  is  he  arm'd  that  hath  his  quarrel  just, 

95 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Aiid  he  but  naked,  though  lock'd  up  in  steel, 
Whose  conscience  with  injustice  is  corrupted. 

[A  noise  within. 
Queen.  What  noise  is  this? 

Re-enter  Suffolk  and  Warwick,  with  their 
weapons  drawn. 

King.  Why,  how  now,  lords!  your  wrathful  weap- 
ons drawn 
Here  in  our  presence!  dare  you  be  so  bold? 
Why,  what  tumultuous  clamor  have  we  here? 
Suf.  The  traitorous  Warwick  with  the  men  of 
Bury  240 

Set  all  upon  me,  mighty  sovereign. 
Sal.  [to    the    Commons,    entering]   Sirs,     stand 
apart;  the  king  shall  know  your  mind. 
Dread  lord,  the  commons  send  you  word  by  me, 
Unless  Lord  Suffolk  straight  be  done  to  death, 
Or  banished  fair  England's  territories, 
They   will   by   violence   tear   him    from   your 

palace, 
And  torture  him  with  grievous  lingering  death. 
They  say,  by  him  the  good  Duke  Humphrey 

died ; 
They  say,  in  him  they  fear  your  highness'  death ; 
And  mere  instinct  of  love  and  loyalty,         250 
Free  from  a  stubborn  opposite  intent. 
As  being  thought  to  contradict  your  liking, 
Makes  them  thus  forward  in  his  banishment. 
They  say,  in  care  of  your  most  royal  person, 

244.  "Lord  8u folic";  the  reading  of  Ff.;  Malone  reads  from  Qq., 
"false  Suf  oik."— I.  G. 

96 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

That  if  your  highness  should  intend  to  sleep. 
And  charge  that  no  man  should  disturb  your 

rest 
In  pain  of  your  dislike  or  pain  of  death, 
Yet,  notwithstanding  such  a  strait  edict. 
Were  there  a  serpent  seen,  with  forked  tongue. 
That  slily  glided  towards  your  majesty,       '"^60 
It  were  but  necessary  you  were  waked. 
Lest,  being  suff er'd  in  that  harmful  slumber. 
The  mortal  worm  might  make  the  sleep  eternal ; 
And  therefore  do  they  cry,  though  you  forbid, 
That  they  will  guard  you,  whether  you  will  or 

no, 
From  such  fell  serpents  as  false  Suffolk  is. 
With  whose  envenomed  and  fatal  sting. 
Your  loving  uncle,  twenty  times  his  wortli, 
They  say,  is  shamefully  bereft  of  life. 

Commons  [tdthin].  An  answer  from  the  king,  my 
Lord  of  Salisbury!  270 

Siif.  'Tis  like  the  commons,  rude  unpolish'd  hinds. 
Could  send  such  message  to  their  sovereign: 
But  you,  my  lord,  were  glad  to  be  employ'd, 
To  show  how  quaint  an  orator  you  are: 
But  all  the  honor  Salisbury  hath  won 
Is,  that  he  was  the  lord  ambassador 
Sent  from  a  sort  of  tinkers  to  the  king. 

Commons  [within].  An  answer  from  the  king,  or 
we  will  all  break  in! 

King.  Go,  Salisbury,  and  tell  them  all  from  me, 
I  thank  them  for  their  tender  loving  care,   280 
And  had  I  not  been  cited  so  by  them, 

262.  "harmful";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  read  "harmless."— I.  G. 
Silk- 1-24  97 


[Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

\"et  did  I  purpose  as  they  do  entreat; 
For,  sure,  my  thoughts  do  hourly  prophesy 
•Mischance  unto  my  state  by  Suffolk's  means: 
And  therefore,  by  His  majesty  I  swear, 
Whose  far  unworthy  deputy  I  am, 
He  shall  not  breathe  infection  in  this  air 
But  three  days  longer,  on  the  pain  of  death. 

[Ea^it  Salisbury. 

Queen.  O  Henry,  let  me  plead  for  gentle  Suffolk ! 

King.  Ungentle  queen,  to  call  him  gentle  Suffolk ! 
No  more,  I  say :  if  thou  dost  plead  for  him,  291 
Thou  wilt  but  add  increase  unto  my  wrath. 
Had  I  but  said,  I  would  have  kept  my  word. 
But  when  I  swear,  it  is  irrevocable. 
If,   after  three   days'   space,   thou  here   be'st 

found 
On  any  ground  that  I  am  ruler  of, 
The  world  shall  not  be  ransom  for  thy  life. 

287.  "breathe     .     .     .     in,"  breathe  out    .     .     .      into. — C.  H.  H. 

297.  The  storm  of  the  commons  against  Suffolk  did  not  burst 
forth  till  January,  1450,  and  was  immediately  occasioned  by  the 
disasters  in  France  under  Somerset's  regency.  As  usual  in  such 
cases,  many  terrible  crimes  were  charged  upon  Suffolk,  but  none 
of  them  were  proved;  and  he  fell  at  last  by  violence,  not  by  law. 
Holinshed  has  the  following  account  of  his  fall:  "The  queene, 
which  intirely  loved  the  duke,  doubting  some  commotion  and  trouble 
to  arise,  if  he  were  let  go  unpunished,  caused  him  for  a  color  to  be 
committed  to  the  Tower;  where  he  remained  not  past  a  moneth, 
but  was  againe  delivered  and  restored  to  the  kings  favor,  as  much 
as  ever  he  was  before.  This  dooing  so  much  displeased  the  people, 
that  if  politike  provision  had  not  beene,  great  mischeefe  had  imme- 
diately insued.  When  the  king  perceived  that  there  was  no  remedy 
to  appease  the  peoples  furie  by  anie  colorable  waies,  shortlie  to 
pacific  so  long  an  hatred  he  banished  the  duke  of  Suffolke  for 
tearme  Of  five  yeares,  meaning  by  this  exile  to  appease  the  malice 
of  the  people  for  the  time,  and  after  to  revoke  him  home  againe." — 
H.  N.  H. 

.Q8 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  u. 

Come,  Warwick,  come,  good  Warwick,  go  with 

me; 
I  have  great  matters  to  impart  to  thee. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Queen  and  Suffolk. 
Queen.  Mischance  and  sorrow  go  along  with  you! 
Heart's  discontent  and  sour  affliction  301 

Be  playfellows  to  keep  you  company! 
There  's  two  of  you ;  the  devil  make  a  third ! 
And  threefold  vengeance  tend  upon  your  steps! 
Suf.  Cease,  gentle  queen,  these  execrations. 
And  let  thy  Suffolk  take  his  heavy  leave. 
Queen.  Fie,    coward    woman    and    soft-hearted 
wretch ! 
Hast  thou  not  spirit  to  curse  thine  enemy? 
Suf.  A  plague  uj^on  them!  wherefore  should   I 
curse  them? 
Would    curses    kill,    as    doth   the   mandrake's 

groan, 
I  would  invent  as  bitter-searching  terms,      311 
As  curst,  as  harsh  and  horrible  to  hear, 
Deliver'd  strongly  through  my  fixed  teeth. 
With  full  as  many  signs  of  deadly  hate, 
As  lean-faced  Envy  in  her  loathsome  cave: 

308.  "enemy";  Capell  (from  Qq.),  "enemies."— I.  G. 

310.  "kiU,  as  doth  the  mandrake's  groan."  The  folklore  which 
gathered  about  the  plant  mandragora  turned  upon  (1)  the  human 
form  of  its  root  (as  in  3  Hen.  IV,  i.  2.  17),  (!2)  the  groan  or 
shriek  which  it  was  thought  to  utter  when  torn  out  of  the  ground. 
This  was  believed  to  produce  madness  (Rom.  and  Jul.  iv.  3.  47) 
or  death,  as  in  tlie  present  passage.  To  avert  this  effect,  a  dog 
or  other  animal  was  used  to  drag  the  plant  from  the  earth  by  a 
cord.  In  its  medicinal  capacity,  as  a  soporific,  the  herb  is  always 
called  in  Shakespeare  "mandragora." — C.  H.  H, 


99 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

My  tongue   should   stumble  in   mine   earnest 

words ; 
Mine  eyes  should  sparkle  like  the  beaten  flint; 
Mine  hair  be  fix'd  on  end,  as  one  distract; 
Aye,  eveiy  joint  should  seem  to  curse  and  ban: 
And    even    now    my    burthen'd    heart    would 

break,  320 

Should   I    not   curse   them.     Poison   be   their 

drink ! 
Gall,  worse  than  gall,  the  daintiest  that  they 

taste ! 
Their  sweetest  shade  a  grove  of  cypress  trees ! 
Their  chief  est  prospect  murdering  basilisks! 
Their  softest  touch  as  smart  as  lizards'  stings! 
Their  music  frightful  as  the  serpent's  hiss, 
And  boding  screech-owls  make  the  concert  full ! 
All  the  foul  terrors  in  dark-seated  hell — 
Queen.  Enough,   sweet   Suffolk;   thou  torment'st 

thyself. 
And  these  dread  curses,  like  the  sun  'gainst 

glass. 
Or  like  an  overcharged  gun,  recoil,  331 

And  turn  the  force  of  them  upon  thyself. 
Suf.  You  bade  me  ban,  and  will  you  bid  me  leave? 
Now,  by  the  ground  that  I  am  banish'd  from, 

322.  "daintiest  that";  Theobald,  "daintiest  meat";  Hanmer  (from 
Qq.),  "daintiest  thing";  Vaughan,  "daintiest  cate." — I.  G. 

325.  This  Is  one  of  the  vulgar  errors  in  the  natural  history  of  our 
ancestors.     The  lizard  has  no  sting,  and  is  quite  harmless. — H.  N.  H. 

333.  This  inconsistency  is  very  common  in  real  life.  Those  who 
are  vexed  to  impatience,  are  angry  to  see  others  less  disturbed  than 
themselves;  but  when  others  begin  to  rave,  they  immediately  see  in 
them  what  they  could  not  find  in  themselves,  the  deformity  and  folly 
of  useless  rage. — H.  N.  H. 

100 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Well  could  I  curse  away  a  winter's  night, 
Though  standing  naked  on  a  mountain  top, 
Where  biting  cold  would  never  let  grass  grow, 
And  think  it  but  a  minute  spent  in  sport. 
Queen.  O,  let  me  entreat  thee  cease.     Give  me  thy 

hand,  339 

That  I  may  dew  it  with  my  mournful  tears; 
Nor  let  the  rain  of  heaven  wet  this  place, 
To  wash  away  my  woful  monuments. 
O,  could  this  kiss  be  printed  in  thy  hand, 
That  thou  mightst  think  upon  these  by  the  seal, 
Through  whom  a  thousand  sighs  are  breathed 

for  thee! 
So,  get  thee  gone,  that  I  may  know  my  grief ; 
'Tis  but  surmised  whiles  thou  art  standing  by. 
As  one  that  surfeits  thinking  on  a  want. 
I  will  repeal  thee,  or,  be  well  assured, 
Adventure  to  be  banished  myself:  350 

And  banished  I  am,  if  but  from  thee. 
Go ;  speak  not  to  me ;  even  now  be  gone. 
O,  go  not  yet!     Even  thus  two  friends  con- 

demn'd 
Embrace  and  kiss  and  take  ten  thousand  leaves, 
Loather  a  hundred  times  to  part  than  die. 
Yet  now  farewell;  and  farewell  Hfe  with  thee! 
Suf.  Thus  is  poor  Suffolk  ten  times  banished; 
Once  by  the  king,  and  three  times  thrice  by 

thee. 

311-5.  "That  thou  m'ujhtsl  ildnk,"  &c.  "That  by  the  impression  of 
my  i^iss  forever  remaining  on  tliy  hand,  thou  mightcst  think  on  those 
lips  tlirough  which  a  thousand  sighs  will  be  breathed  for  thee." — 
Johnson. 

101 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

'Tis  not  the  land  I  care  for,  wert  thou  thence; 
A  wilderness  is  populous  enough,  360 

So  Suffolk  had  thy  heavenly  company : 
For  where  thou  art,  there  is  the  world  itself, 
With  every  several  pleasure  in  the  world, 
And  where  thou  art  not,  desolation. 
I  can  no  more:  live  thou  to  joy  thy  life; 
Myself  no  joy  in  nought  but  that  thou  livest. 

Enter  Vaux. 

Queen.  Wither  goes  Vaux  so  fast?  what  news,  I 

prithee  ? 
Vaucc.  To  signify  unto  his  majesty 

That  Cardinal  Beaufort  is  at  point  of  death; 
For  suddenly  a  grievous  sickness  took  him.    370 
That  makes  him  gasp  and  stare  and  catch  the 

air, 
Blaspheming  God  and  cursing  men  on  earth. 
Sometime  he  talks  as   if  Duke   Humphrey's 

ghost 
Were  by  his  side ;  sometime  he  calls  the  king, 
And  whispers  to  his  pillow  as  to  him 
The  secrets  of  his  overcharged  soul: 
And  I  am  sent  to  tell  his  majesty^ 

359.  "thence,"  away  from  the  land;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "hence."— I.  G. 

366.  '-no  joy";  Singer  (Collier  MS.),  "to  joy";  "nought,"  Ff.  3,  4, 
"ought."—!.  G. 

376.  So  in  Macbeth,  Act  v.  sc.  1:  "Infected  minds  to  their  deaf 
pillows  will  discharge  their  secrets."  The  passage  stands  thus  ia 
the  quarto: 

"Sometimes  he  calls  upon  Duke  Humphrey's  ghost, 
And  whispers  to  his  pillow  as  to  him." 

The    cardinal    died    at    his    palace    of    Wolvesey,    April    11,    1447, 

102 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

That  even  now  he  cries  aloud  for  him. 
Queen.  Go  tell  this  heavy  message  to  the  king. 

[Edit  Vaux. 
Aye  me!  what  is  this  world!  what  news  are 

these!  380 

But  wherefore  grieve  I  at  an  hour's  poor  loss, 
Omitting  Suffolk's  exile,  my  soul's  treasin*e? 
Why  only,  Suffolk,  mourn  I  not  for  thee, 
And  with  the  southern  clouds  contend  in  tears, 
Theirs  for  the  earth's  increase,  mine   for  my 

sorrows  ? 
Now  get  thee  hence:  the  king,  thou  know'st,  is 

coming ; 
If  thou  be  found  by  me,  thou  art  but  dead. 

which  was  six  weeks  after  the  death  of  Gloster,  He  was  eighty 
years  of  age.  The  chroniclers  give  him  a  very  bad  character, 
but  it  is  remarkable  that  they  do  not  specify  facts  to  bear  out 
their  charges.  Holinshed,  following  Hall,  dismisses  him  thus:  "He 
was  descended  of  an  honorable  lineage,  but  born  in  hast,  more 
noble  in  blood  than  notal)le  in  learning,  bautie  in  stomach,  and  high 
of  countenance,  rich  above  measure,  but  not  verie  liberall,  disdain- 
full  to  his  kin,  and  dreadfuU  to  his  lovers,  preferring  monie  before 
friendship,  manie  things  beginning  and  few  performing,  saving  in 
malice  and  mischief;  his  insatiable  covetousnesse  and  hope  of  long 
life  made  him  both  to  forget  God,  his  prince,  and  himselfe."  Lin- 
gard  vindicates  him,  and  the  vindication  cannot  well  be  upset:  "That 
he  expired  in  the  agonies  of  despair,  is  a  fiction  which  we  owe  to 
the  imagination  of  Shakespeare:  from  an  eye-witness  we  learn  that 
during  a  lingering  illness  he  devoted  most  of  his  time  to  religious 
exercises.  According  to  the  provisions  of  his  will,  his  wealth  was 
chiefly  distributed  in  charitable  donations:  no  less  a  sum  than  four 
thousand  pounds  was  set  aside  for  the  relief  of  indigent  prisoners 
in  the  capital;  and  the  hospital  of  St.  Cross,  in  the  vicinity  of 
Winchester,  still  exists  a  durable  monument  of  his  munificence." — 
H.  N.  H. 

391.  Why  do  I  lament  a  circumstance  of  which  the  impression  will 
pass  away  in  an  hour;  while  I  neglect  to  think  on  the  loss  of  Suffolk, 
my  affection  for  whom  no  time  will  efface?" — H.  N.  H, 

103 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Siif.  If  I  depart  from  thee,  I  cannot  live; 
And  in  thy  sight  to  die,  what  were  it  else 
But  like  a  pleasant  slumber  in  thy  lap  ?  390 

Here  could  I  breathe  my  soul  into  the  air, 
As  mild  and  gentle  as  the  cradle-babe, 
Dying  with  mother's  dug  between  its  lips: 
Where,  from  thy  sight,  I  should  be  raging  mad. 
And  cry  out  for  thee  to  close  up  mine  eyes, 
To  have  thee  with  thy  lips  to  stop  my  mouth ; 
So  shouldst  thou  either  turn  my  flying  soul, 
Or  I  should  breathe  it  so  into  thy  body, 
And  then  it  lived  in  sweet  Elysium. 
To  die  by  thee  were  but  to  die  in  jest;  400 

From  thee  to  die  were  torture  more  than  death : 
O,  let  me  stay,  befall  what  may  befall! 

Queen.  Away!  though  parting  be  a  fretful  cor- 
rosive. 
It  is  applied  to  a  deathful  wound. 
To  France,  sweet  Suffolk:  let  me  hear  from 

thee ; 
For  wheresoe'er  thou  art  in  this  world's  globe, 
I  '11  have  an  Iris  that  shall  find  thee  out. 

Suf.  I  go. 

Queen.  And  take  my  heart  with  thee. 

Suf.  A  jewel,  lock'd  into  the  wofull'st  cask 
That  ever  did  contain  a  thing  of  v/orth.  410 

Even  as  a  splitted  bark,  so  sunder  we: 
This  way  fall  I  to  death. 

Queen,  This  way  for  me. 

[Exeunt  severally, 


104 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  in.  Sc.  Hi. 


Scene  III 

A  bedchamber. 

Enter  the  King,  Salisbury,  Warwick,  to  the 
Cardinal  in  bed. 

King.  How  fares  my  lord?  speak,  Beaufort,  to  thy 

sovereign. 
Car.  If  thou  be'st  death,  I  '11  give  thee  England's 
treasure, 
Enough  to  purchase  such  another  island, 
So  thou  wilt  let  me  live,  and  feel  no  pain. 
King.  All,  what  a  sign  it  is  of  evil  life, 

Wliere  death's  approach  is  seen  so  terrible! 
War.  Beaufort,  it  is  thy  sovereign  speaks  to  thee. 

4.  "and  feel  no  pain";  Theobald  reads,  from  Qq.,  "but  one  iphole 
year."— I.  G. 

6.  This  scene  was  evidently  founded,  in  part,  on  a  passage  in 
Hall:  "Doctor  John  Baker,  his  privy  counsellor  and  his  chaplain, 
wrote  that  he,  lying  on  his  death-bed,  said  these  words:  *Why 
should  I  die,  having  so  many  riches?  If  the  whole  realm  would 
save  my  life,  I  am  able  either  by  policy  to  get  it,  or  by  riches  to 
buy  it.  Fie!  will  not  death  be  hired,  nor  will  money  do  nothing? 
When  my  nephew  of  Bedford  died,  I  thought  myself  half  up  the 
wheel;  but  when  I  saw  my  other  nephew  of  Gloster  deceased,  I 
thought  myself  able  to  be  equal  with  kings,  and  so  thought  to  in- 
crease my  treasure  in  hope  to  have  worn  a  triple  crown.  But  I 
see  now  the  world  faileth  me,  and  so  I  am  deceived;  praying  you 
all  to  pray  for  me!'"  Lingard  discredits  this  story,  and  adds  that 
three  weeks  before  his  death  the  cardinal  had  himself  carried  into 
the  great  hall  of  his  palace,  where  the  clergy  of  the  city  and  monks 
of  the  cathedral  were  assembled.  "There  he  sat  or  lay  while  a 
dirge  was  sung,  the  funeral  ceremony  performed,  and  his  will  pub- 
licly read.  The  next  morning  they  were  assembled  again:  a  mass 
of  requiem  was  celebrated,  and  his  will  was  again  read,  with  the 
addition  of  several  codicils.  He  then  took  leave  of  all,  and  was 
carried  back  to  his  chamber." — H.  X.  H. 

105 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  SECOXD  PART  OF 

Car.  Bring  me  unto  my  trial  when  you  will. 

Died  he  not  in  his  bed?  where  should  he  die? 

Can  I  make  men  live,  whether  they  will  or  no? 

O,  torture  me  no  more!     I  will  confess.  H 

Alive  again?  then  show  me  where  he  is: 

I  '11  give  a  thousand  pound  to  look  upon  him. 

He  hath  no  eyes,  the  dust  hath  blinded  them. 

Comb  down  his  hair;  look,  look!  it  stands  up- 
right, 

Like  hme-twigs  set  to  catch  my  winged  soul. 

Give  me  some  drink;  and  bid  the  apothecary 

Bring  the  strong  poison  that  I  bought  of  him. 
King.  O  thou  eternal  mover  of  the  heavens, 

8.  Of  this  wonderful  scene  the  quarto  has  a  full  outline  and 
some  of  the  most  Shakespearian  touches,  which  we  must  needs 
subjoin: 

"Card.  O,  death!  if  thou  wilt  let  me  live 
But  one  whole  year,  I'll  give  thee  as  much  gold 
As  will  purchase  such  another  island. 

King.  O,  see,  my  lord  of  Salisbury,  how  he  is  troubled! 
Lord  cardinal,  remember,  Christ  must  save  thy  soul. 

Card.  Why,  died  he  not  in  his  bed? 
What  would  you  have  me  to  do  then? 
Can  I  make  men  live,  whether  they  will  or  no? 
Sirrah,  go  fetch  me  the  poison  which  the  'pothecary  sent  me. 
O,  see  where  Duke  Humphrey's  ghost  doth  stand. 
And  stares  me  in  the  face!     Look,  look!  comb  down  his  hair! 
So,  now  he's  gone  again:     0,0,0! 

Sal.  See,  how  the  pangs  of  death  do  gripe  his  heart ! 

King.  Lord  cardinal,  if  thou  diest  assur'd  of  heavenly  bliss, 
Hold  up -thy  hand,  and  make  some  sign  to  us — 
O  see !  he  dies,  and  makes  no  sign  at  all. 
O  God!  forgive  his  soul. 

Sal.  So  bad  an  end  did  never  none  behold; 
But  as  his  death,  so  was  Iiis  life  in  all. 

King.  Forbear  to  judge,  good  Salisbury,  forbear. 
For  God  will  judge  us  all. 
Go,  take  him  hence,  and  see  his  funerals  perform'd." — H.  N.  H, 

106 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iii.  Sc.  m. 

Look  with  a  gentle  eye  upon  this  wretch!        -0 
O,  beat  away  the  busy  meddUng  fiend 
That  lays  strong  siege  unto  this  wretch's  soul, 
And  from  his  bosom  purge  this  black  despair! 

War,  See,  how  the  pangs  of  death  do  make  him 
grin ! 

Sal.  Disturb  him  not;  let  him  pass  peaceably. 

King.  Peace  to  his  soul,  if  God's  good  pleasure  be! 
Lord  Cardinal,  if  thou  think'st  on  heaven's  bliss, 
Hold  up  thy  hand,  make  signal  of  thy  hope. 
He  dies,  and  makes  no  sign.     O  God,  forgive 
him ! 

Wa7\  So  bad  a  death  argues  a  monstrous  life.      30 

King.  Forbear  to  judge,  for  we  are  sinners  all. 
Close  up  his  eyes  and  draw  the  curtain  close ; 
And  let  us  all  to  meditation.  lEa^ennt 


lor 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 


ACT  FOURTH 

Scene  I 

The  coast  of  Kent. 

Alarum.  .  Fight  at  sea.  Ordnance  goes  off'.  En- 
ter a  Captain,  a  Master,  a  Master  s-Mate, 
Walter  Whitmore,  and  others;  with  them  Suf- 
folk, and  others,  prisoners. 

Cap.  The  gaudy,  blabbing  and  remorseful  day- 
Is  crept  into  the  bosom  of  the  sea; 
And  now  loud-howling  wolves  arouse  the  jades 
That  drag  the  tragic  melancholy  night; 
Who,  with   their   drowsy,   slow  and  flagging 

wings. 
Clip  dead  men's  graves,  and  from  their  misty 

jaws 
Breathe  foul  contagious  darkness  in  the  air. 
Therefore  bring  forth  the  soldiers  of  our  prize; 
For,  whilst  our  pinnace  anchors  in  the  Downs, 
Here   shall   they   make    their   ransom    on   the 

sand,  10 

Sc.  1.  "a  Captain,  a  Master."  On  ships  of  war  the  master  was  an 
officer  subordinate  to  the  captain. — C,  H.  H. 

1.  "The  epithet  blabbing,  applied  to  the  day  by  a  man  about  to 
commit  murder,  is  exquisitely  beautiful.  Guilt,  if  afraid  of  light, 
considers  darkness  as  a  natural  shelter,  and  makes  night  the  confi- 
dant of  those  actions  which  cannot  be  trusted  to  the  tell-tale  day." — 
Johnson. 

108 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Or  with  their  blood  stain  this  discolored  shore. 
Master,  this  prisoner  freely  give  I  thee; 
And  thou  that  art  his  mate,  make  boot  of  this; 
The  other,  Walter  Whitmore,  is  thy  share. 
First  Gent.  What  is  my  ransom,  master?  let  me 

know. 
Mast.  A  thousand  crowns,  or  else  lay  down  your 

head. 
Mate.  And  so  much  shall  you  give,  or  off  goes 

yours. 
Cap.  What,  think  you  much  to  pay  two  thousand 
crowns, 
And  bear  the  name  and  port  of  gentlemen? 
Cut  both  the  villains'  throats;  for  die  you  shall: 
The  lives  of  those  which  we  have  lost  in  fight  21 
Be  counterpoised  with  such  a  petty  sum! 
First  Gent.  I  '11  give  it,  sir;  and  therefore  spare 

my  hfe. 
Sec.  Gent.  And  so  w411  I,  and  write  home  for  it 

straight. 
Whit.  I  lost  mine  eye  in  laying  the  prize  aboard, 
And  therefore  to  revenge  it,  shalt  thou  die; 

[_To  Suf. 
And  so  should  these,  if  I  might  have  my  will. 
Cap.  Be  not  so  rash ;  take  ransom,  let  him  live. 
Suf.  Look  on  my  George;  I  am  a  gentleman: 
Rate  me  at  what  thou  wilt,  thou  shalt  be  paid.    30 

21,  22.  "The  lives  of  those,"  &c.,  so  Ff.,  with  the  exception  of  the 
note  of  exclamation,  added  by  Grant  White;  Knight  prints  a  note 
of  interrogation;  Nicholson,  "Shall  the  Hccs  .  ,  .  sum?"  Mar- 
shall, "The  lives     .     .     .     shall  they  Be  conterpoised,"  &c. —  1.  G. 

29.  "my  Georye,"  the  image  of  St.  George,  a  badge  worn  by  mem- 
bers of  the  Order  of  the  Garter. — C.  H.  H. 

109 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Whit.  And  so  am  I;  my  name  is  Walter  Whit- 
more. 
How  now!  why  start'st  thou?  what,  doth  death 
affright  ? 

Suf.  Thy  name  affrights  me,  in  whose  sound  is 
death. 
A  cunning  man  did  calculate  my  birth, 
And  told  me  that  by  water  I  should  die : 
Yet  let  not  this  make  thee  be  bloody-minded ; 
Thy  name  is  Gualtier,  being  rightly  sounded. 

Whit.  Gaultier  or  Walter,  which  it  is,  I  care  not : 
Never  did  base  dishonor  blur  our  name. 
But  with  our  sword  we  wiped  away  the  blot;  40 
Therefore,  when  merchant-like  I  sell  revenge, 
Broke  be  my  sword,  my  arms  torn  and  defaced, 
And  I  proclaim'd  a  coward  through  the  world  I 

Suf.  Stay,  Whitmore ;  for  thy  prisoner  is  a  prince, 
The  Duke  of  Suffolk,  William  de  la  Pole. 

Whit.  The  Duke  of  Suffolk,  muffled  up  in  rags! 

Suf.  Aye,  but  these  rags  are  no  part  of  the  duke: 
Jove  sometime  went  disguised,  and  why  not  I? 

Cap.  But  Jove  was  never  slain,  as  thou  shalt  be. 

31.  "Walter,"  pronounced  Water;  a  pronunciation  still  traceable  in 
the  surname  Waters. — C.  H.  H. 

35.  Of  course  this  refers  to  the  prediction  of  the  Spirit  in  Act  i. 
sc.  4. — Thus  Drayton,  in  Queen  Margaret's  Epistle  to  this  duke  of 
Suffolk:— 

"I  pray  thee,  Poole,  have  care  how  thou  dost  pass; 
Never  the  sea  yet  half  so  dangerous  was; 
And  one  foretold  by  water  thou  shouldst  die." 

A  note  on  these  lines  says,  "The  witch  of  Eye  received  answer  from 
the  spirit,  that  the  duke  of  Suffolk  should  take  heed  of  water." — 
H.  N.  H. 
48.  Omitted  in  Ff.;  restored  by  Pope  (from  Qq.).— I.  G. 

110 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Suf,  Obscure    and   lowly   swain,    King   Henry's 

blood,  50 

The  honorable  blood  of  Lancaster, 
Must  not  be  shed  by  such  a  jaded  groom. 
Hast  thou  not  kiss'd  thy  hand  and  held  my 

stirrup  ? 
Bare-headed  plodded  by  my  foot-cloth  mule. 
And  thought  thee  happy  when  I  shook  my 

head? 
How  often  hast  thou  waited  at  my  cup, 
Fed  from  my  trencher,  kneel'd  down  at  the 

board, 
When  I  have  feasted  with  Queen  Margaret? 
Remember  it  and  let  it  make  thee  crest-fall'n, 
Aye,  and  allay  this  thy  abortive  pride;  60 

How  in  our  voiding  lobby  hast  thou  stood 
And  duly  waited  for  my  coming  forth? 
This  hand  of  mine  hath  writ  in  thy  behalf. 
And  therefore  shall  it  charm  thy  riotous  tongue. 
Whit,  Speak,    captain,   shall   I    stab   the    forlorn 

swain? 
Caj).  First  let  my  words  stab  him,  as  he  hath  me. 
Suf.  Base  slave,  thy  words  are  blunt,  and  so  art 

thou. 
Caj).  Convey  him  hence  and  on  our  long-boat's  side 
Strike  off  his  head. 

bO.  In  Ff.  this  line  is  made  part  of  preceding  speech,  with 
"lowsie"  for  "lowly,"  restored  by  Pope  (from  Qq.). — I.  G. 

52.  A  jaded  groom  is  a  low  fellow.  Suffolk's  boast  of  his  own 
blood  was  hardly  warranted  by  his  origin.  His  great-grandfather 
had  been  a  merchant  at  Hull.  If  Shakespeare  had  known  his  pedigree 
he  would  not  have  failed  to  make  some  of  his  adversaries  reprcacb 
him  with  it.— H.  N.  H. 

Ill 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Suf.  Thou  darest  not,  for  thy  own. 

Cap,  Yes,  Pole. 

Suf,  Pole! 

Cap.  Pool !  Sir  Pool !  lord  I        70 

Aye,  kennel,  puddle,  sink;  whose  filth  and  dirt 
Troubles    the    silver    spring    where    England 

drinks. 
Now  will  I  dam  up  this  thy  yawning  mouth. 
For  swallowing  the  treasure  of  the  realm: 
Thy  lips  that  kiss'd  the  queen  shall  sweep  the 

ground ; 
And  thou  that  smiledst  at  good  Duke  Hum- 
phrey's death 
Against  the  senseless  winds  shalt  grin  in  vain, 
Who  in  contempt  shall  hiss  at  thee  again: 
And  wedded  be  thou  to  the  hags  of  hell. 
For  daring  to  afFy  a  mighty  lord  80 

Unto  the  daughter  of  a  worthless  king, 
Having  neither  subject,  wealth,  nor  diadem. 
By  devilish  policy  art  thou  grown  great, 
And,  like  ambitious  Sylla,  overgorged 
With  gobbets  of  thy  mother's  bleeding  heart. 
By  thee  Anjou  and  Maine  were  sold  to  France, 
The  false  revolting  Normans  thorough  thee 
Disdain  to  call  us  lord,  and  Picardy 
Hath  slain  their  governors,  surprised  our  forts, 
And  sent  the  ragged  soldiers  wounded  home.  90 
The  princely  Warwick,  and  the  Nevils  all, 

70.  "Cap.  Yes,  Pole.  Suf.  Pole!"  added  by  Capell  from  Qq.— I.  G. 
85.  "mother's  bleeding,"  Rowe's  correction  of  Ff.,  "Mother-bleed- 
ingr—l.  G. 


112 


KING  HE.VRY  VI  Act.  iv.  Sc.  i. 

Whose  dreadful  swords  were  never  drawn  in 

vain, 
As  hating  thee,  arc  rising  up  in  arms : 
And  now  the  house  of  York,  thrust  from  the 

crown 
By  shameful  murder  of  a  guiltless  king, 
And  lofty  proud  encroaching  tyranny. 
Burns  with  revenging  fire ;  whose  hopeful  colors 
Advance  our  half-faced  sun,  striving  to  shine, 
Under  the  which  is  writ  'Invitis  nubibus.' 
The  commons  here  in  Kent  are  up  in  arms:    100 
And,  to  conclude,  reproach  and  beggary 
Is  crept  into  the  palace  of  our  king, 
And  all  by  thee.     Away !  convey  him  hence. 

Suf.  O  that  I  were  a  god,  to  shoot  forth  thunder 
Upon  these  paltry,  servile,  abject  drudges! 
Small  things  make  base  men  proud :  this  villain 

here. 
Being  captain  of  a  pinnace,  threatens  more 
Than  Bargulus  the  strong  Illyrian  pirate. 
Drones  suck  not  eagles'  blood  but  rob  bee-hives : 
It  is  impossible  that  I  should  die  HO 

By  such  a  lowly  vassal  as  thyself. 
Thy  words  move  rage  and  not  remorse  in  me : 
I  go  of  message  from  the  queen  to  France ; 
I  charge  thee  waft  me  safely  cross  the  Channel. 

Cajj.  Walter, — 

Whit.  Come,   Suffolk,   I  must  waft  thee  to  thy 
death. 

Suf.  Gelidus  timor  occupat  artus :  it  is  thee  I  fear. 

117,  "Oelidus    timor   occupat   artus/'   i.    e.,    "chill    fear    seizes    my 

113 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Whit.  Thou  shalt  have  cause  to  fear  before  I  leave 
thee. 
What,  are  ye  daunted  now?  now  will  ye  stoop? 

First  Gent.  My  gracious  lord,  entreat  him,  speak 
him  fair.  120 

Suf.  Suffolk's  imperial  tongue  is  stern  and  rough, 
Used  to  command,  untaught  to  plead  for  favor. 
Far  be  it  we  should  honor  such  as  these 
With  humble  suit:  no,  rather  let  my  head 
Stoop  to  the  block  than  these  knees  bow  to  any 
Save  to  the  God  of  heaven  and  to  my  king; 
And  sooner  dance  upon  a  blood}^  pole 
Than  stand  uncover'd  to  the  vulgar  groom. 
True  nobility  is  exempt  from  fear. 
More  can  I  bear  than  you  dare  execute.        130 

Cap.  Hale  him  away,  and  let  him  talk  no  more. 

Suf.  Come,  soldiers,  show  what  cruelty  ye  can, 
That  this  my  death  may  never  be  forgot ! 
Great  men  oft  die  by  vile  bezonians : 
A  Roman  sworder  and  banditto  slave 
Murder'd  sweet  Tully;  Brutus'  bastard  hand 
Stabb'd  Julius  Caesar;  savage  islanders 

limbs";  the  reading  of  Ff.  2,  3,  4;  F.  1  reads,  "Pine  gelidus";  Theo- 
bald, "Pcene  gelidtis,"  &c.   {cp.  ^neid,  vii.  446), — I.  G. 
129.  Lloyd,  "Exempt  from  fear  is  true  nobility." — I.  G. 

136.  "Brutus'  bastard  hand" ;  Theobald  proposed  "dastard,"  but 
afterwards  withdrew  his  suggestion;  Servilia,  the  mother  of  Brutus, 
became,  it  is  true,  the  mistress  of  Julius  Ctesar,  but  not  until  after 
the  birth  of  Brutus.— I.  G. 

137,  138.  "savage  islanders  Pompey  the  Great";  the  story  of  Pom- 
pey's  death  is  given  in  Plutarch;  the  murderers  were  Achillas,  an 
Egyptian,  and  Septimius,  who  had  served  under  him;  perhaps  they 
are  described  as  "islanders,"  because  the  murder  was  committed  at 
Pelusium.,  an  island-like  spot  in  the  midst  of  morasses,  easternmost 
mouth  of  the  Nile. — I.  G. 

114 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Pompey  the  Great;  and  Suffolk  dies  by  pirates. 

[Eccewnt  Whitmore  and  others  with  Suffolk. 

Cap.  And  as  for  these  whose  ransom  we  have  set, 

It  is  our  pleasure  one  of  them  depart :  140 

Therefore  come  you  with  us  and  let  him  go. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  the  First  Gentleman, 

Re-enter  Whitmore  with  Suffolk's  body, 

Whit.  There  let  his  head  and  lifeless  body  lie, 
Until  the  queen  his  mistress  bury  it.  [Exit, 

First  Gent.  O  barbarous  and  bloody  spectacle! 
His  body  will  I  bear  unto  the  king: 
If  he  revenge  it  not,  yet  will  his  friends; 
So  will  the  queen,  that  living  held  him  dear. 

[Exit  with  the  body. 

Scene  II 

Blackheath. 
Enter  George  Bevis  and  John  Holland. 
Bevis.  Come,   and  get  thee   a   sword,   though 

147.  The  fate  of  Suffolk  is  desi)atched  in  few  words  by  the 
chroniclers.  Thus  Holinshed,  following  Hall:  "But  Gods  justice 
would  not  that  so  ungracious  a  person  should  so  escape:  for  when 
he  shipped  in  Suffolke,  intending  to  transport  himselfe  over  into 
France,  he  was  incountered  with  a  shtp  of  warre,  appertaining  to 
the  duke  of  Excester,  constable  of  the  Tower  of  London,  called  the 
Nicholas  of  the  Tower.  The  captelne  of  that  barke  with  small  fight 
entered  into  the  dukes  ship,  and,  perceiving  his  person  present, 
brought  him  to  Dover  road,  and  there  on  the  one  side  of  a  cocke 
bote  caused  his  head  to  be  striken  off,  and  left  his  bodie  with  the 
head  lieng  there  on  the  sands.  Which  corps,  being  there  found  by  a 
chapleine  of  his,  was  conveied  to  Wingfield  college  in  Suffolki,,  i.nd 
there  buried."     His  death  was  in  May,  1450.— H.  N.  H. 

115 


10 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

made  of  a  lath:  they  have  been  up  these  two 

days. 
Holl.  They  have  the  more  need  to  sleep  now, 

then, 
Bevis.  I  tell  thee,  Jack  Cade  the  clothier  means 

to  dress  the  commonwealth,  and  turn  it,  and 

set  a  new  nap  upon  it. 
Holl.  So    he    had    need,    for    'tis    threadbare. 

Well,  I  say  it  was  never  merry  world  in 

England  since  gentlemen  came  up. 
Bevis.  O  miserable  age!  virtue  is  not  regarded 

in  handicrafts-men. 
Holl.  The  nobility  think  scorn  to  go  in  leather 

aprons. 
Bevis.  Nay,   more,   the  king's  council  are  no 

good  workmen. 
Holl.  True;  and  yet  it  is  said,  labor  in  thy  vo- 
cation; which  is  as  much  to  say  as,  let  the 

magistrates  be  laboring  men;  and  therefore 

should  we  be  magistrates. 
Bevis.  Thou  hast  hit  it ;  for  there  's  no  better 

sign  of  a  brave  mind  than  a  hard  hand. 
Holl.  I  see  them!  I  see  them!     There  's  Best's 

son,  the  tanner  of  Wingham, — 
Bevis.  He  shall  have  the  skins  of  our  enemies, 

to  make  dog's-leather  of. 
Holl.  And  Dick  the  butcher, — 
Bevis.  Then  is  sin  struck  down  like  an  ox,  and 

iniquity's  throat  cut  like  a  calf. 
Holl.  And  Smith  the  weaver, — 
Bevis.  Argo,  their  thread  of  life  is  spun. 
Holl.  Come,  come,  let 's  fall  in  with  them. 

116 


20 


30 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  n 

Drum.     Enter  Cade,  Dick  Butcher,  Smith  the 
^  Weaver,  and  a  Sawyer,  with  infinite  numbers. 

Cade.  We  John  Cade,  so  termed  of  our  sup- 
posed father, — 

Dick.  [Aside]  Or  rather  steaHng  a  cade  of 
herrings. 

Cade.  For  our  enemies  shall  fall  he  fore  us,  in- 
spired with  the  spirit  of  putting  down  kings 
and  princes, — Conmiand  silence.  40 

Dick.  Silence! 

Cade.  My  father  was  a  Mortimer, — 

Dick.  [Aside]  He  was  an  honest  man,  and  a 
good  bricklayer. 

Cade.  My  mother  a  Plantagenet, — 

Dick.  [Aside]  I  know  her  well;  she  was  a 
midwife. 

Cade.  My  wife  descended  of  the  Lacies, — 

Dick.  [Aside]  She  was  indeed,  a  peddler's 
daughter,  and  sold  many  laces.  50 

Smith.  [Aside]  But  now  of  late,  not  able  to 
travel  with  her  furred  pack,  she  washes 
bucks  here  at  home. 

Cade.  Therefore  am  I  of  an  honorable  house. 

Dick.  [Aside]  Aye,  by  my  faith,  the  field  is 
honorable;  and  there  was  he  born,  under  a 
hedge,  for  his  father  had  never  a  house  but 
the  cage. 

Cade.  Valiant  I  am. 

Smith.  [Aside]  A'  must  needs;  for  beggary  is   60 
valiant. 

Cade.  I  am  able  to  endure  much. 

117 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Dick.  [Aside]  No  question  of  that;  for  I  have 
seen  him  whipped  three  market-days  to- 
gether. 

Cade.  I  fear  neither  sword  nor  fire. 

Smith.  lAside]  He  need  not  fear  the  sword; 
for  his  coat  is  of  proof. 

Dick.  [Asidel  But  methinks  he  should  stand 
in  fear  of  fire,  being  burnt  i'  the  hand  for   '70 
steahng  of  sheep. 

Cade.  Be  brave,  then;  for  your  captain  is 
brave,  and  vows  reformation.  There  shall 
be  in  England  seven  halfpenny  loaves  sold 
for  a  i^enny :  the  three-hooped  pot  shall  have 
ten  hoops;  and  I  will  make  it  felony  to 
drink  small  beer:  all  the  realm  shall  be  in 
common;  and  in  Cheapside  shall  my  palfry 
go  to  grass:  and  when  I  am  king,  as  king 
I  will  be,—  80 

All.  God  save  your  majesty! 

Cade.  I  thank  you,  good  people:  there  shall  be 
no  money;  all  shall  eat  and  drink  on  my 
score;  and  I  will  apparel  them  all  in  one 
livery,  that  they  may  agree  like  brothers, 
and  worship  me  their  lord. 

Dick.  The  first  thing  we  do,  let 's  kill  all  the 
lawyers. 

Cade.  Nay,  that  I  mean  to  do.  Is  not  this  a 
lamentable  thing,  that  of  the  skin  of  an  in- 
nocent lamb  should  be  made  parchment? 
that  parchment,  being  scribbled  o'er,  should 
undo  man?  Some  say  the  bee  stings:  but 
I  say,  'tis  the  bee's  wax;  for  I  did  but  seal 

118 


90 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

once  to  a  thing,  and  I  was  never  mine  own 
man  since.     How  now  I  who  's  there  ? 

Enter  some^  hringing  forward  the  Clerk  of 

Chatham. 

Smith,  The  clerk  of  Chatham:  he  can  write 
and  read  and  cast  accomi^t. 

Cade.  O  monstrous! 

Smith.  We  took  him  setting  of  boys'  copies.  100 

Cade.  Here  's  a  villain ! 

Smith.  Has  a  book  in  his  pocket  with  red  let- 
ters in  't. 

Cade.  Nay,  then,  he  is  a  conjurer. 

Dick.  Nay,  he  can  make  obligations,  and  write 
court-hand. 

Cade.  I  am  sorry  for  't :  the  man  is  a  proper 
man,   of  mine   honor;   unless   I    find   him 
guilty,  he  shall  not  die.     Come  hither,  sir- 
rah,   I    must    examine    thee:    what    is   thy  HO 
name? 

Clerk.  Emmanuel. 

Dick.  They  use  to  write  it  on  the  top  of  letters : 
'twill  go  hard  with  you. 

Cade.  Let  me  alone.  Dost  thou  use  to  write 
thy  name?  or  hast  thou  a  mark  to  thyself, 
like  an  honest  plain-dealing  man? 

Clerk.  Sir,  I  thank  God,  I  have  been  so  well 
brought  up  that  I  can  write  my  name. 

All.  He  hath  confessed:  away  with  him!  he 's  120 
a  villain  and  a  traitor. 

97.  "Chatham";  Rowe's  emendation;  F.  1,  "Chartam";  Ff.  2,  3,  4, 
"Chattam,"  &c.— I.  G. 

119 


Act  IV.  So.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Cade,  Away  with  him,  I  say!  hang  him  with 
his  pen  and  ink-horn  about  his  neck. 

lEa^it  one  with  the  Clerk, 

Enter  Michael. 

Mich.  Where's  our  general? 

Cade.  Here  I  am,  thou  particular  fellow. 

Mich.  Fly,  fly,  fly!     Sir  Humphrey  Stafl'ord 

and  his  brother  are  hard  by,  with  the  king's 

forces. 
Cade.  Stand,  villain,  stand,  or  I  '11  fell  thee 

down.     He    shall    be   encountered    with    a  130 

man  as  good  as  himself :  he  is  but  a  knight, 

is  a'? 
Mich.  No. 
Cade.  To   equal   him,   I  will  make  myself   a 

kniglit  presently.     [Kneels]     Rise  up,  Sir 

John    Mortimer.     \_Rises]     Now    have    at 

him ! 

Enter  Sir  Humphrey  Stafford  and  his  Brother, 
with  drum  arid  soldiers. 

Staf.  Rebellious  hinds,  the  filth  and  scum  of  Kent, 
Mark'd    for   the    gallows,    lay    your   weapons 
down ;  139 

Home  to  your  cottages,  forsake  this  groom: 
The  king  is  merciful,  if  you  revolt. 

Bro.  But  angry,  wrathful,  and  inclined  to  blood. 
If  you  go  forward;  therefore  yield,  or  die. 

Cade.  As  for  these  silken-coated  slaves,  I  pass  not: 
It  is  to  you,  good  people,  that  I  speak, 
Over  whom,  in  time  to  come,  I  hope  to  reign; 

120 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc  a. 

For  I  am  rightful  heir  unto  the  crown. 
Staf.  Villain,  thy  father  was  a  plasterer; 

And  thou  thyself  a  shearman,  art  thou  not? 
Cade.  And  Adam  was  a  gardener.  150 

Bro.  And  what  of  that? 

Cade,  Marry,  this:  Edmund  INIortimer,  Earl  of 
March, 

Married  the  Duke  of  Clarence'  daughter,  did 
he  not? 
Staf.  Aye,  sir. 

Cade.  By  her  he  had  two  children  at  one  birth. 
Bro.  That 's  false. 

Cade.  Aye,  there  's  the  question ;  but  I  say,  'tis 
true : 

The  elder  of  them,  being  put  to  nurse, 

Was  by  a  beggar-woman  stolen  away; 

And,  ignorant  of  his  birth  and  parentage,     160 

Became  a  bricklayer  when  he  came  to  age: 

His  son  am  I ;  deny  it,  if  you  can, 
Dick.  Nay,  'tis  too  true ;  therefore  he  shall  be  king. 
Smith.  Sir,  he  made  a  chimney  in  my  father's 

house,  and  the  bricks  are  alive  at  this  day  to 

testify  it;  therefore  deny  it  not. 
Staf.  And  will  you  credit  this  base  drudge's 
words, 

That  speaks  he  knows  not  what? 
All.  Aye,  marry,  will  we;  therefore  get  ye  gone. 
Bro.  Jack  Cade,  the  Duke  of  York  hath  taught 
you  this.  l'^^ 

Cade.  [Aside']   He  lies,  for  I  invented  it  myself. 
Go  to,  sirrah,  tell  the  king  from  me,  that,  for 

his  father's  sake,  Henry  the  fifth,  in  whose 

Shk-l-25  121 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii,  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

time  boys  went  to  span-counter  for  French 
crowns,  I  am  content  he  shall  reign;  but 
I  '11  be  protector  over  him. 

Dick.  And  furthermore,  we  '11  have  the  Lord 
Say's  head  for  selling  the  dukedom  of 
Maine. 

Cade.  And  good  reason ;  for  thereby  is  Eng- 180 
land  mained,  and  fain  to  go  with  a  staff, 
but  that  my  puissance  holds  it  up.  Fellow 
kings,  I  tell  you  that  that  Lord  Say  hath 
gelded  the  commonwealth,  and  made  it  an 
eunuch:  and  more  than  that,  he  can  speak 
French;  and  therefore  he  is  a  traitor. 

Staf.  O,  gross  and  miserable  ignorance! 

Cade.  Nay,  answer,  if  you  can:  the  Frenchmen 
are  our  enemies;  go  to,  then,  I  ask  but  this: 
can  he  that  speaks  with  the  tongue  of  an  190 
enemy  be  a  good  counsellor,  or  no? 

All.  No,  no;  and  therefore  we  '11  have  his  heaH. 

Bro.  Well,  seeing  gentle  words  will  not  prevail. 
Assail  them  with  the  army  of  the  king. 

Staf.  Herald,  away;  and  throughout  every  town 
Proclaim  them  traitors  that  are  up  with  Cade; 
That  those  which  fly  before  the  battle  ends 
May,  even  in  their  wives'  and  children's  sight, 
Be  hang'd  up  for  example  at  their  doors : 
And  you  that  be  the  king's  friends,  follow 
me.  200 

[Eoceunt  the  two  Staff ords,  and  soldiers. 

Cade.  And  you  that  love  the  commons,  follow  me. 

174.  span-counter,  a  game,  in  which  the  object  was  to  throw  one 
counter  within  a  span's  distance  of  another.— C.  H,  H, 

122 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  Hi. 

Now  show  yourselves  men;  'tis  for  liberty. 
We  will  not  leave  one  lord,  one  gentleman: 
Spare  none  but  sueh  as  go  in  clouted  shoon; 
J'or  they  are  thrifty  honest  men,  and  c  ch 
As  would,  but  that  they   dare  not,  take  our 
parts. 

Dick.  They  are  all  in  order  and  march  toward  us. 

Cade.  But  then  are  we  in  order  when  we  are 
most  out  of  order.     Come,  march  forward. 

[Ecveunt. 


Scene  III 

Another  part  of  Blackheath. 

Alarums  to  the  fight,  wherein  both  the  Staff ords 
are  slain.     Enter  Cade  and  the  rest. 

Cade.  Where  's  Dick,  the  butcher  of  Ashford? 

Dick.  Here,  sir. 

Cade.  They  fell  before  thee  like  sheep  and  oxen 
and  thou  behavedst  thyself  as  if  thou  hadst 
been  in  thine  own  slaughter-house:  therefore 
thus  will  I  reward  thee,  the  Lent  shall  be 
as  long  again  as  it  is;  and  thou  shalt  have  a 
license  to  kill  for  a  hundred  lacking  one. 

Dick.  I  desire  no  more. 

Cade.  And,  to  speak  truth,  thou  deservest  no   IC 

8.  "a  httndred  lackino  one";  Malone,  "a  hundred  lacking  one,  a 
week,"  from  Qq.  In  tlic  reign  of  I'liznbeth  butchers  were  not  al- 
lowed to  sell  flpsh-ineat  in  Lent;  by  special  licenses,  however,  a  lim- 
ited number  of  beasts  might  be  killed  each  week. — I.  G. 

123 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iv.  THE  SECOND  PART  O© 

less.  This  monument  of  the  victory  will 
I  bear  li)utting  on  Sir  Humphrey's  brig- 
andinel ;  and  the  bodies  shall  be  dragged  at 
mj'^  horse  heels  till  I  do  come  to  London, 
where  we  will  have  the  mayor's  sword  borne 
before  us. 

Dick.  If  we  mean  to  thrive  and  do  good, 
break  open  the  jails  and  let  out  the  pris- 
oners. 

Cade.  Fear  not  that,  I  warrant  thee.     Come,   20 
let 's  march  toward  London.  [Eoceunt. 


Scene  IV. 

London.     The  palace. 

Enter  the  King  with  a  supplication,  and  the  Queen 
with  Suffolk's  head,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
and  the  Lord  Say. 

Queen.  Oft  have  I  heard  that  grief  softens  the 
mind, 
And  makes  it  fearful  and  degenerate; 
Think  therefore  on  revenge  and  cease  to  weep. 
But  who  can  cease  to  weep  and  look  on  this? 
Here  may  his  head  he  on  my  throbbing  breast: 
But  where  's  the  body  that  I  should  embrace? 

Buck.  What   answer    makes    your    grace    to    the 
rebels'  supplication? 

King.  I  '11  send  some  holy  bishop  to  entreat; 
For  God  forbid  so  many  simple  souls  10 

Should  perish  by  the  sword!     And  I  myself, 

121 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  iv. 

Rather  than  bloody  war  shall  cut  them  short, 
Will  parley  with  Jack  Cade  their  general: 
But  stay,  I  '11  read  it  over  once  again. 
Queen.  Ah,  barbarous  villains!  hath  this  lovely  face 
Ruled,  like  a  wandering  planet,  over  me, 
And  could  it  not  enforce  them  to  relent, 
That  were  unworthy  to  behold  the  same? 
King.  Lord  Say,  Jack  Cade  hath  sworn  to  have 
thy  head.  1^ 

Sa7j.  Aye,  but  I  hope  your  highness  shall  have  his. 
Kinfi^'.  How  now,  madam! 

Still   lamenting   and   mourning   for    Suffolk's 

death  ? 
I  fear  me,  love,  if  that  I  had  been  dead, 
Thou  wouldest  not  have  mourn'd  so  much  for 
me. 
Queen.  No,  my  love,  I  should  not  mourn,  but  die 
for  thee. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

King.  How  now!  what  news?  why  comest  thou  in 
such  haste? 

Mess.  The  rebels  are  in  Southwark;  fly,  my  lord! 
Jack  Cade  proclaims  himself  Lord  ^Mortimer, 
Descended  from  the  Duke  of  Clarence'  house, 
And  calls  your  grace  usurper  openly,  30 

And  vows  to  crown  himself  in  Westminster. 
His  army  is  a  ragged  multitude 
Of  hinds  and  peasants,  rude  and  merciless: 
Sir  Humphrey  Stafford  and  his  brother's  death 
Hath  given  them  heart  and  courage  to  proceed : 

22.  Pope,  "Lavienling  slill  and  mourning  Suffolk's  death?" — I.  G. 

125 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iv.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

All   scholars,   lawyers,   courtiers,  gentlemen, 

They  call   false  caterpillars  and  intend  their 
death. 
King.  O  graceless  men!  they  know  not  what  they 

do. 
Buck.  My  gracious  lord,  retire  to  Killingworth, 

Until  a  power  be  raised  to  put  them  down.      40 
Queen.  Ah,  were  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  now  alive, 

These  Kentish  rebels  would  be  soon  appeased! 
King.  Lord  Say,  the  traitors  hate  thee; 

Therefore  away  with  us  to  Killingworth. 
Say.  So  might  your  grace's  person  be  in  danger. 

The  sight  of  me  is  odious  in  their  eyes; 

And  therefore  in  this  city  will  I  stay, 

And  live  alone  as  secret  as  I  may. 

Enter  aiiother  Messenger. 

Mess.  Jack  Cade  hath  gotten  London  Bridge: 
The  citizens  fly  and  forsake  their  houses:       50 
The  rascal  people,  thirsting  after  prey, 
Join  with  the  traitor,  and  they  jointly  swear 
To  spoil  the  city  and  your  royal  court. 

Buck.  Then  linger  not,  my  lord ;  away,  take  horse. 

King.  Come,  Margaret;  God,  our  hope,  will  suc- 
cor us. 

39.  "Killingworth"  is  the  ancient  form  of  Kenihoorth,  and  occurs 
frequently  in  Holinsiied  and  other  old  writers.  In  modern  editions 
the  name  has  been  unwarrantably  changed  into  the  modern  form. — 
H.  N.  H. 

43.  "Lord  Sot/,  the  traitors  hate  thee";  F.  1,  "hateth";  Capell, 
"traitor  rebel  hateth";  Marshall,  "the  traitor  Jack  Cade  hateth  thee." 
— I.  G. 

51.  "The  rascal  people,"  the  mob,  as  distinguished  from  "the  citi- 
zens."—C.  H.  H. 

126 


KING  HENRY  Vt  Act  iv.  Sc.  v. 

Queen.  My  hope  is  gone,  now  Suffolk  is  deceased. 
King.  Farewell,  my  lord:  trust  not  the  Kentish 

rebels. 
Buck.  Trust  nobody,  for  fear  you  be  Ijetray'd. 
Say.  The  trust  1  have  is  in  mine  innocence, 

And  therefore  am  I  bold  and  resolute.  60 

[EiVeunt, 


Scene  V 

London.     The  Tower, 

Enter   Lord   Scales   upon    the    Tower,   walking. 
Then  enter  two  or  three  Citizens  below. 

Scales.  How  now!  is  Jack  Cade  slain? 

First  Cit.  No,  my  lord,  nor  likely  to  be  slain; 

for  they  have  won  the  bridge,  killing  all 

those  that  withstand  them:  the  lord  mayor 

craves  aid  of  your  honor  from  the  Tower  to 

defend  the  citv  from  the  rebels. 
Scales.  Such  aid  as  I  can  spare  you  shall  com- 
mand ; 

But  I  am  troubled  here  with  them  myself; 

The  rebels  have  assay'd  to  win  the  Tower. 

But  get  you  to  Smithfield  and  gather  head,  10 

And  thither  I  will  send  you  ^latthew  GofFe; 

Fight  for  your  king,  your  country,  and  your 
lives ; 

And  so,  farewell,  for  I  must  hence  again. 

lE^veunt, 

127 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vi.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 


Scene  VI 

Londo7i.     Cannon  Street. 

Enter  Jack  Cade  and  the  rest,  and  strikes  his  staff 
071  London-stone. 

Cade.  Now  is  Mortimer  lord  of  this  city.  And 
here,  sitting  upon  London-stone,  I  charge 
and  command  that,  of  the  city's  cost,  the 
pissing-conduit  run  nothing  but  claret  wine 
this  first  year  of  our  reign.  And  now 
henceforward  it  shall  be  treason  for  any  that 
calls  me  other  than  Lord  Mortimer. 

Enter  a  Soldier ,  running. 

Sold.  Jack  Cade!     Jack  Cade! 

Cade.  Knock  him  down  there.  [They  kill  hint. 

Smith.  If  this  fellow  be  wise,  he  '11  never  call   10 
ye  Jack  Cade  more:  I  think  he  hath  a  very 
fair  warning. 

Dick.  My  lord,  there  's  an  army  gathered  to- 
gether in  Smithfield. 

Cade.  Come,  then,  let 's  go  fight  with  them: 
but  first,  go  and  set  London  bridge  on  fire; 
and,  if  you  can,  burn  down  the  Tower  too. 
Come,  let 's  away.  [Ea:eunt. 

3.  "London-stone,"  an  ancient  landmark  in  Cannon  Street,  City, 
of  the  origin  of  which,  even  in  Shakespeare's  time,  no  tradition  sur- 
vived.—C.  H.  H. 

4.  "pissing-conduit,"  one  of  the  public  fountains  of  London  was 
popularly  so  called. — C.  H.  H. 

128 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  vu. 

Scene  VII 

London.     Smith  field. 

Alarums.     Matthexv  Goffe  is  slain,  and  all  the  rest. 
Then  enter  Jack  Cade,  with  his  company. 

Cade.  So,  sirs :  now  go  some  and  pull  down  the 

Savoy;  others  to  the  inns  of  court;  down 

with  them  all. 
Dick.  I  have  a  suit  unto  your  lordship. 
Cade.  Be  it  a  lordship,  thou  shalt  have  it  for 

that  word. 
Dick.  Only  that  the  laws  of  England  may  come 

out  of  your  mouth. 
Holl.  [xiside^   Mass,  'twill  be  sore  law,  then; 

for  he  was  thrust  in  the  mouth  with  a  spear,    10 

and  'tis  not  whole  yet. 
Smith.  \_Aside']  Nay,  John,  it  will  be  stinking 

law;    for    his    breath    stinks    with    eating 

toasted  cheese. 
Cade.  I  have  thought  upon  it,  it  shall  be  so. 

Away  burn  all  tlie  records  of  the  realm :  my 

mouth  shall  be  the  parliament  of  England. 
Holl.  [Aside']  Then  we  are  like  to  have  biting 

statutes,  unless  his  teeth  be  pulled  out. 
Cade.  And  henceforward  all  things  shall  be  in   20 

common. 

Enter  a  Messenger, 

Mess.  My  lord,  a  prize,  a  prize !  here  's  the  Lord 
Say,  which  sold  the  towns  in  France ;  he  that 
made  us  pay  one  and  twenty  fifteens,  and 

129 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

one  shilling  to  the  pound,  the  last  subsidy. 

Enter  George  Bevis,  with  the  Lord  Say. 

Cade,  Well,  he  shall  be  beheaded  for  it  ten 
times.  Ah,  thou  say,  thou  serge,  nay,  thou 
buckram  lord!  now  art  thou  within  point- 
blank  of  our  jurisdiction  regal.  What 
canst  thou  answer  to  my  majesty  for  giv-  30 
ing  up  of  Normandy  unto  I^Iounsieur 
Basimecu,  the  dauphin  of  France?  Be  it 
known  unto  thee  by  these  presence,  even  the 
presence  of  Lord  Mortimer,  that  I  am  the 
besom  that  must  sweep  the  court  clean  of 
such  filth  as  thou  art.  Thou  hast  most 
traitorously  corrupted  the  youth  of  the 
realm  in  erecting  a  grammar  school:  and 
whereas,  before,  our  forefathers  had  no 
other  books  but  the  score  and  the  tally,  thou  40 
hast  caused  printing  to  be  used,  and,  con- 
trary to  the  king,  his  crown  and  dignity, 
thou  hast  built  a  paper-mill.  It  will  be 
proved  to  thy  face  that  thou  hast  men  about 
thee  that  usually  talk  of  a  noun  and  a  verb, 
and  such  abominable  words  as  no  Christian 
ear  can  endure  to  hear.  Thou  hast  ap- 
pointed justices  of  peace,  to  call  poor  men 
before  them  about  matters  they  were  not 
able  to  answer.  Moreover,  thou  hast  put  50 
them  in  prison;  and  because  they  could  not 
read,  thou  hast  hanged  them;  when,  indeed, 

41.  "thou  hast  caused  printing  to  be  used";  printing  was  not  really 
introduced  into  England  until  twenty  years  later. — I.  G. 

ISO 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  vu. 

only  for  that  cause  they  have  been  most 
worthy  to  live.  Thou  dost  ride  in  a  foot- 
cloth,  dost  thou  not? 

Say.  What  of  that? 

Cade,  Marry,  thou  oughtest  not  to  let  thy 
horse  wear  a  cloak,  when  honester  men  than 
thou  go  in  their  hose  and  doublets. 

Dick.  And  work  in  their  shirt  too;  as  myself,    60 
for  example^  that  am  a  butcher. 

Say.  You  men  of  Kent, — 

Dick.  What  say  you  of  Kent? 

Say.  Nothing  but  this ;  'tis  'bona  terra,  mala  gens.* 

Cade.  Away  with  him,  away  with  him !  he  speaks 
Latin. 

Say.  Hear  me  but  speak,  and  bear  me  where  you 
will. 
Kent,  in  the  Commentaries  Caesar  writ, 
Is  term'd  the  civil'st  place  of  all  this  isle: 

55.  A  comparison  of  this  speech  as  it  is  in  the  quarto  will  show 
that  it  gained  nothing  in  humor  by  the  revisal:  "Come  hither,  thou 
Say,  thou  George  (serge,)  thou  buckram  lord,  what  answer  canst 
thou  make  unto  my  mightiness,  for  delivering  up  the  towns  in 
France  to  monsieur  Bus-mine-cue,  the  dolphin  of  France?  An,  more 
than  so,  thou  hast  most  traitorously  erected  a  grammar-school,  to 
infect  the  youth  of  the  realm;  and  against  the  king's  crown  and 
dignity  thou  hast  built  up  a  paper-miil:  nay,  it  will  be  said  to  thy 
face,  that  thou  keep'st  men  in  thy  house  that  daily  read  of  books 
with  red  letters,  and  talk  of  a  noun  and  verb,  and  such  abominable 
words  as  no  Christian  ear  is  able  to  endure  it.  And,  besides  ail 
this,  thou  hast  appointed  certain  justices  o±  the  peace  in  every  shire, 
to  hang  honest  men  that  steal  for  their  living;  and  because  they 
could  not  read,  thou  hast  hung  them  up;  only  for  which  cause  they 
were  most  worthy  to  live." — H.  N.  H. 

67,  68.  Caesar  says  in  Book  V.  of  the  Commentaries,  "Ex  his 
omnibus  sunt  humanissimi  qui  Cantium  incolunt"  which  Golding 
rendered  (1590),  "Of  all  the  inhabitants  of  this  isle,  the  civilest  are 
the  Kentish  folke." — I.  G. 

131 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Sweet  is  the  country,  because  full  of  riches; 
The  people  liberal,  valiant,  active,  wealthy;  70 
Which  makes  me  hope  you  are  not  void  of  pity. 
I  sold  not  Maine,  I  lost  not  Normandy, 
Yet,  to  recover  them,  would  lose  my  life. 
Justice  with  favor  have  I  always  done ; 
Prayers  and  tears  have  moved  me,  gifts  could 

never. 
When  have  I  ought  exacted  at  your  hands. 
But  to  maintain  the  king,  the  realm,  and  you? 
Large  gifts  have  I  bestow'd  on  learned  clerks, 
Because  my  book  preferr'd  me  to  the  king, 
And  seeing  ignorance  is  the  curse  of  God,        80 
Knowledge    the    wing    wherewith    we    fly    to 

heaven. 
Unless  you  be  possess'd  with  devilish  spirits, 
You  cannot  but  forbear  to  murder  me: 
This  tongue  hath  parley'd  unto  foreign  kings 
For  your  behoof, — 
Cade.  Tut,  when  struck'st  thou  one  blow  in  the 

field? 
Say,  Great  men  have  reaching  hands:  oft  have  I 

struck 
Those  that  I  never  saw  and  struck  them  dead. 
Geo.  O  monstrous  coward!  what,  to  come  behind 

folks? 
Say.  These  cheeks  are  pale  for  watching  for  your 

good.  90 

69.  "because  full";  Hanmer  reads  "beauteous,  full";  Vaughan, 
"bounteous,  full,"  &c.— I.  G. 

77.  "But  to  maintain";  (Johnson  Rann);  "Kent  to  m.,"  the  read- 
ing of  Ff.;  Steevens,  "Bent  to  m." ;  Malone,  "Kent  to  m.,"  &c.— I.  G. 

132 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  vii. 

Cade.  Give  him  a  box  o'  the  ear  and  that  will 

make  'em  red  again. 
Say.  Long  sitting  to  determine  poor  men's  causes 

Hath  made  me  full  of  sickness  and  diseases. 
Cade.  Ye  shall  have  a  hemi^en  caudle  then  and 

the  help  of  hatchet. 
Dich.  Why  dost  thou  quiver,  man? 
Say.  The  palsy,  and  not  fear,  provokes  me. 
Cade.  Nay,  he  nods  at  us,  as  who  should  say, 

I  '11  be  even  with  you;  I  '11  see  if  his  head  100 

will  stand  steadier  on  a  pole,  or  no.     Take 

him  away,  and  behead  him. 
Say.  Tell  me  wherein  have  I  offended  most? 

Have  I  affected  wealth  or  honor?  speak. 

Are  my  chests  fill'd  up  with  extorted  gold? 

Is  my  apparel  sumptuous  to  behold? 

Whom  have  I  injured,  that  ye  seek  my  death? 

These   hands   are   free    from    guiltless    blood- 
shedding, 

This    breast    from    harboring    foul    deceitful 
thoughts. 

O,  let  me  live!  110 

Cade.  \^Aside~\   I  feel  remorse  in  myself  with 

his  words ;  but  I  '11  bridle  it :  he  shall  die, 

an  it  be  but  for  pleading  so  well  for  his  life; 

Away  with  him !  he  has  a  familiar  under  his 

tongue;  he  speaks  not  o'  God's  name.     Go, 

take  him  away,   I  say,   and  strike  off  his 

head  presently;  and  then  break  into  his  son- 

96.  "The  help  of  hatchet";  so  F.  1;  Ff.  ^,  3,  4,  "the  help  of  a 
hatchet";  Farmer,  "pap  xcilh  a  hatchet,"  a  singularly  happy  emenda- 
tion, &c.— I.  G. 

183 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

in-law's  house,  Sir  James  Cromer,  and  strike 
off  his  head,  and  bring  them  both  upon  two 
poles  hither.  120 

All.  It  shall  be  done. 

Say.  Ah,  countrymen!  if  when  you  make  your 
prayers, 
God  should  be  so  obdurate  as  yourselves, 
How  would  it  fare  with  your  departed  souls? 
And  therefore  yet  relent,  and  save  my  life. 

Cade.  Away  with  him!  and  do  as  I  command  ye. 

[Exeunt  some  with  Lord  Say. 
The  proudest  peer  in  the  realm  shall  not 
wear  a  head  on  his  shoulders,  unless  he  pay 
me  tribute ;  there  shall  not  a  maid  be  mar-  130 
ried,  but  she  shall  pay  to  me  her  maiden- 
head ere  they  have  it:  men  shall  hold  of  me 

118.  "Sir  James  Cromer";  it  was  Sir  William  Cromer  whom  Cade 
beheaded. — I.  G. 

120.  The  following  is  Holinshed's  account  of  these  doings:  "After 
that,  he  entered  into  London,  cut  the  roi^es  of  the  draw-bridge,  and 
strooke  his  sword  on  London  stone,  saieng,  'Now  is  Mortimer  lord 
of  this  citie.'  And,  after  a  glosing  declaration  made  to  the  maior 
touching  the  cause  of  his  thither  comming,  he  departed  againe  into 
Southwarke,  and  upon  the  third  daie  of  Julie  he  caused  sir  James 
Fines,  lord  Sale,  and  treasurer  of  England,  to  be  brought  to  the 
Guildhall,  and  there  to  be  arreigned;  who,  being  before  the  kings 
justices  put  to  answer,  desired  to  be  tried  by  his  peeres,  for  the 
longer  delaie  of  his  life.  The  capteine,  perceiving  his  dilatorie  plee, 
by  force  tooke  him  from  the  officers,  and  brought  him  to  the  standard 
in  Cheape,  and  there  caused  his  head  to  be  striken  off,  and  pitched 
it  upon  an  high  pole,  which  was  openlie  borne  before  him  through 
the  streets.  And,  not  content  herewith,  he  went  to  Mile-end,  and 
there  apprehended  sir  James  Cromer,  then  sheriffe  of  Kent,  and 
sonne-in-law  to  the  said  lord  Saie,  causing  him  likewise  to  be  be- 
headed, and  his  head  to  be  fixed  on  a  pole.  And  with  these  two 
heads  this  bloudie  wretch  entered  into  the  citie  againe,  and  as  it 
were  in  spite  caused  them  in  everie  street  to  kisse  together,  to  the 
great  detestation  of  all  the  beholders." — H,  N.  H. 

134 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  vfi 

in  capite;  and  we  charge  and  command  that 

their  wives  be  as  free  as  heart  can  wish  or 

tongue  can  tell. 
Dick.  My  lord,  when  shall  we  go  to  Cheapside 

and  take  up  commodities  upon  our  bills? 
Cade.  ISIarry,  presently. 
All.  O,  brave! 

Re-enter  one  with  the  heads. 

Cade.  But  is  not  this  braver?  Let  them  kiss  140 
one  another,  for  they  loved  well  when  they 
were  alive.  Now  part  them  again,  lest  they 
consult  about  the  giving  up  of  some  more 
towns  in  France.  Soldiers,  defer  the  spoil 
of  the  city  until  night :  for  -with  these  borne 
before  us,  instead  of  maces,  will  we  ride 
through  the  streets  and  at  every  corner  have 
them  kiss.     Awaj^!  [Ecceunt. 

133.  "hold  of  me  in  capite,"  hold  their  possessions  immediately 
from  me,  as  king  (with  a  quibble  on  "head"  in  the  last  line). — C. 
H.  H. 

137.  "take  vp  commodities  itpon  our  hiUs,"  a  play  upon  the  com- 
mercial sense  of  the  phrase:  "accept  goods  as  security  for,  or  in 
fSart  payment  of,  a  loan.''  Cade  is  now,  it  is  implied,  the  owner  of 
London's  wealth,  which  the  citizens  hold  from  him  un  credit. — C, 
H.  H. 


i%& 


Act  IV.  Sc.  viii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 


Scene  VIII 

Southwa7'k. 

Alarum  and  retreat.    Enter  Cade  and  all  his  rah- 

hlement. 

Cade.  Up  Fish  Street!  down  Saint  Magnus* 
Corner!  kill  and  knock  down!  throw  them 
into  Thames!  [Sound  a  parley.^  What 
noise  is  this  I  hear?  Dare  any  be  so  bold  to 
sound  retreat  or  parley,  w^hen  I  command 
them  kill? 

Enter  Buckingham  and  Cliff ord^  attended. 

Buck.  Aye,  here  they  be  that  dare  and  will  disturb 
thee: 
Know,  Cade,  we  come  ambassadors  from  the 

king 
Unto  the  commons  whom  thou  hast  misled; 
And  here  pronounce  free  pardon  to  them  all,  10 
That  will  forsake  thee  and  go  home  in  j)eace.     . 
Clif.  What  say  ye,  countrymen?  will  ye  relent. 
And  yield  to  mercy  whilst  'tis  ofFer'd  you ; 

Sc.  8.  Soiithwark.  This  is  certainly  the  locality  of  the  latter  part 
of  the  scene,  where  Cade  is  "left"  at  the  White  Hart.  The  opening 
words,  however,  suggest  that  Shakespeare  is  dramatising  the  battle 
on  the  bridge,  of  July  5  (l-iSO),  when,  according  to  Holinshed,  at 
one  time  "the  Londoners  were  beaten  back  to  St.  Magnus'  corner; 
and  suddenly  again  the  rebels  were  repelled  to  the  stoops  in  South- 
wark."  The  charge  and  retreat  are  thus  compressed  into  six  lines, 
and  as  Mr.  Daniel  says,  Cade's  men  "seem  to  be  on  both  sides  of 
the  river  at  the  same  time." — C.  H.  H. 


186 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  vUi. 

Or  let  a  rebel  lead  you  to  your  deatlis  ? 
Who  loves  the  king*  and  will  embrace  his  par- 
don, 
Fling  up  his  cap,  and  say  'God  save  his  ma- 
jesty!' 
Who  hateth  him  and  honors  not  his  father, 
Henry  the  fifth,  that  made  all  France  to  quake, 
Shake  he  his  weapon  at  us  and  pass  by. 

All.  God  save  the  king !    God  save  the  king!        20 

Cade.  What,  Buckingham  and  Clifford,  are  ye 
so  brave?  And  you,  base  peasants,  do  ye  be- 
lieve him?  will  you  needs  be  hanged  with 
your  pardons  about  your  necks?  Hath  my 
sword  therefore  broke  through  London 
gates,  that  you  should  leave  me  at  the  White 
Hart  in  Southwark?  I  thought  ye  would 
never  have  given  out  these  arms  till  you  had 
recovered  your  ancient  freedom ;  but  you  are 
all  recreants  and  dastards,  and  delight  to  30 
live  in  slavery  to  the  nobility.  Let  them 
break  your  backs  with  burthens,  take  your 
houses  over  your  heads,  ravish  your  wives 
and  daughters  before  your  faces:  for  me,  I 
will  make  shift  for  one;  and  so,  God's  curse 
light  upon  you  all! 

All.  We  '11  follow  Cade,  we  '11  follow  Cade! 

CUf.  Is  Cade  the  son  of  Henry  the  Fifth, 

That  thus  you  do  exclaim  you  '11  go  with  him? 

Will   he   conduct   you   through   the   heart   of 

France,  40 

U.  "rebel";  Singer's  emendation  (Collier  MS.  and  Anon.  MS.)  of 
Ff.,  "rabble";  Vaughan,  "ribald."— l.  G. 

137 


Act  IV.  Sc.  viii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Aiid  make  the  meanest  of  you  earls  and  dukes? 
Alas,  he  hath  no  home,  no  place  to  fly  to; 
Nor  knows  he  how  to  live  but  by  the  spoil, 
Unless  by  robbing  of  your  friends  and  us. 
Were  't  not  a  shame,  that  whilst  3^ou  live  at  jar. 
The    fearful    French,    whom    you    late    van- 

auished. 
Should  make  a  start  o'er  seas  and  vanquish 

you? 
Methinks  already  in  this  civil  broil 
I  see  them  lording  it  in  London  streets, 
Crying  'Villiago!'  unto  all  they  meet.  50 

Better  ten  thousand  base-born  Cades  miscarry. 
Than  you   should  stoop   unto  a   Frenchman's 

mercy. 
To  France,  to  France,  and  get  v/hat  you  have 

lost; 
Spare  England,  for  it  is  your  native  coast: 
Henry  hath  money,  you  are  strong  and  manly ; 
God  on  our  side,  doubt  not  of  victory. 
AIL  A  CHfFord!  a  ChfFord!  we'll  follow  the 

king  and  Clifford. 
Cade.  Was  ever  feather  so  lightly  blown  to  and 
fro  as  this  multitude?  The  name  of  Henry  60 
the  Fifth  hales  them  to  an  hundred  mis- 
chiefs and  makes  them  leave  me  desolate. 
I  see  them  lay  their  heads  together  to  sur- 
prise me.  My  sword  make  way  for  me,  for 
here  is  no  staying.  In  despite  of  the  devils 
and  hell,  have  through  the  very  middest  of 
you!  and  heavens  and  honor  be  witness  that 
.    no  want  of  resolution  in  me,  but  only  my 

138 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  i^ 

followers'   base  and  ignominious  treasons, 
make  me  betake  me  to  my  heels.  70 

[Exit. 
Buck.  What,  is  he  fled?    Go  some,  and  follow  him ; 
And  he  that  brings  his  head  unto  the  king 
Shall  have  a  thousand  crowns  for  his  reward. 

[EiVeimt  some  of  them. 
Follow  me,  soldiers :  we  '11  devise  a  mean 
To  reconcile  you  all  unto  the  king. 

lEa^eunt. 

Scene  IX 

Kenilworth  Castle. 

Sound  trumpets.     Enter  King,  Queen,  and 
Somerset,  on  the  terrace. 

King.  Was  ever  king  that  joy'd  an  earthly  throne. 
And  could  command  no  more  content  than  1? 
No  sooner  was  I  crept  out  of  my  cradle 
But  I  was  made  a  king,  at  nine  months  old. 
Was  never  subject  long'd  to  be  a  king 
As  I  do  long  and  wish  to  be  a  subject. 

Enter  Buclxingham  and  Clifford. 

Buck.  Health  and  glad  tidings  to  your  majesty! 
King.  Why,  Buckingham,  is  the  traitor  Cade  sur- 
prised? 
Or  is  he  but  retired  to  make  him  strong? 

Enter,  below,  multitudes,  with  halters  about 
their  necks. 

139 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ix.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Clif.  He  is  fled,  my  lord,  and  all  his  powers  do 
yield;  10 

And  humbly  thus,  with  halters  on  their  necks, 
Expect  your  highness'  doom,  of  life  or  death. 

King.  Then,  heaven,  set  ope  thy  everlasting  gates, 
To  entertain  my  vows  of  thanks  and  praise! 
Soldiers,  this  day  have  you  redeem'd  your  lives, 
And  show'd  how  w^ll  3^ou  love  your  prince  and 

country : 
Continue  still  in  this  so  good  a  mind, 
And  Henry,  though  he  be  infortunate, 
Assure  yourselves,  will  never  be  unkind: 
And  so,  with  thanks  and  pardon  to  you  all,    20 
I  do  dismiss  j^ou  to  your  several  countries. 

AIL  God  save  the  king!     God  save  the  king! 

Enter  Messenger. 

Mess.  Please  it  your  grace  to  be  advertised 

The  Duke  of  York  is  newly  come  from  Ire- 
land, 
And  with  a  puissant  and  mighty  power 
Of  gallowglasses  and  stout  kernes 
Is  marching  hitherward  in  proud  array, 
And  still  proclaimeth,  as  he  comes  along. 
His  arms  are  only  to  remove  from  thee 

26.  "yalloxcylasses,"  native  Irish  soldiers,  armed  with  pole-axes,  and 
noted  as  being  "grim  of  countenance,  tall  of  stature,  big  of  limb, 
lusty  of  body,  well  and  strongly  timbered." — C.  H.  H. 

"Of  (jallowcjlasses  and  stout  kernes";  Hanmer  reads,  "Of  des- 
p'raie  gallowglasses,"  &c.;  Capell,  "Of  nimble  g.,"  &c.;  Dyce,  "Of 
savage  g.,"  &c.;  "stout";  Mitford,  "siout  Irish";  "kernes";  Keightley, 
"kernes,  he";  Vaughan,  "kernes  supplied." — I.  G. 

29.  "arms";  F.  1,  "Armes";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Armies." 

140 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  «. 

The   Duke   of   Somerset,   whom   he   terms   a 
traitor.  -^^ 

King.  Thus  stands  my  state,  'twixt  Cade  and  York 
distress'd ; 

Like  to  a  ship  that,  having  'scaped  a  tempest, 

Is   straightway    calm'd    and   boarded    with    a 
pirate : 

But  now  is  Cade  driven  back,  his  men  dis- 
persed ; 

And  now  is  York  in  arms  to  second  him. 

I  pray  thee,  Buckingham,  go  and  meet  him, 

And  ask  him  what 's  the  reason  of  these  arms. 

Tell    him    I  '11    send    Duke    Edmund    to    the 
Tower ; 

And,  Somerset,  we  will  commit  thee  thither, 

Until  his  army  be  dismiss'd  from  him.  40 

Som.  ^ly  lord, 

I  '11  yield  myself  to  prison  willingly. 

Or  unto  death,  to  do  my  country  good. 
King.  In  any  case,  be  not  too  rough  in  terms ; 

For  he  is  fierce  and  cannot  brook  hard  lan- 
guage. 
Buck.  I  will,  my  lord;  and  doubt  not  so  to  deal 

As  all  things  shall  redound  unto  your  good. 

33.  "calm'd,"  the  reading  of  F.  4;  F.  1,  "calme";  F.  2,  "claimd"; 
F.  3,  "claim'd";  Beckett,  "cramp'd";  Walker,  "chased."— I.  G. 

3-t.  "But"  is  here  not  adversative.  "It  was  only  just  now."— 
H.  N.  H. 

36.  "/  pray  thee,  Buckingham,  (jo  and  meet  him";  , Staunton,  "Go, 
I  pray  thee,  B.,"  &c. ;  Rowe  reads,  "(jo  and  meet  with  him";  Malone, 
"to  go  and  meet  him";  Steevens  (1793),  "go  forth  and  meet  him"; 
Collier  (Collier  MS.),  "then  go  and  nieet  him";  Dyce,  "go  thou  and 
meet  him." — I.  G. 


141 


Act  IV.  Sc.  X.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

King.  Come,  wife,  let 's  in,  and  learn  to  govern 
better ; 
For  yet  may  England  curse  my  wretched  reign. 

[Flourish.     Exeunt. 


Scene  X 

Kent.      Idens  garden. 

Enter  'Cade. 

Cade.  Fie  on  ambition !  fie  on  myself,  that  have 
a  sword,  and  yet  am  ready  to  famish !  These 
five  days  have  I  hid  me  in  these  woods  and 
durst  not  peep  out,  for  all  the  country  is  laid 
for  me;  but  now  am  I  so  hungry  that  if  I 
might  have  a  lease  of  my  life  for  a  thousand 
years  I  could  stay  no  longer.  Wherefore, 
on  a  brick  wall  have  I  climbed  into  this  gar- 
den, to  see  if  I  can  eat  grass,  or  pick  a  sallet 
another  while,  which  is  not  amiss  to  cool  a  10 
man's  stomach  this  hot  weather.  And  I 
think  this  word  'sallet'  was  born  to  do  me 

1.  "Fie  on  ambition";  so  the  later  Ff.;  F,  1,  "Ambitions."— \.  G. 

9.  Of  course  Cade  is  punning  on  the  word  sallet,  which  meant 
a  helmet  as  well  as  a  preparation  of  herbs.  In  illustration  of  the 
text,  Mr.  Collier  produces  an  apt  passage  from  an  Interlude  written 
as  early  as  1537,  where  the  hero,  Thersites,  applies  to  Mulciber 
for  a  suit  of  armor,  and  Mulciber  pretends  to  misunderstand  him: 

"Thersites,  Nowe,  I  pray  Jupiter,  that  thou  dye  a  cuckold: 
I  mean  a  sallet  with  which  men  do  fyght. 
Mulciber.  It  is  a  small  tastinge  of  a  mannes  might, 
That  he  should  for  any  matter 
Fyght  with  a  few  herbes  in  a  platter." — H.  N.  H. 

142 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  x. 

good:  for  many  a  time,  but  for  a  sallet,  my 
brain-pan  had  been  cleft  with  a  brown  bill; 
and  many  a  time,  when  I  have  been  dry  and 
bravely  marching,  it  hath  served  me  instead 
of  a  quart  pot  to  drink  in ;  and  now  the  word 
'sallet'  must  serve  me  to  feed  on. 

Enter  I  den. 

Iden.  Lord,  who  would  live  turmoiled  in  the  court, 
And  may  enjoy  such  quiet  walks  as  these?   20 
This  small  inheritance  my  father  left  me 
Contenteth  me,  and  worth  a  monarchy. 
I  seek  not  to  wax  great  by  others'  waning. 
Or  gather  wealth,  I  care  not  with  what  envy : 
Sufficeth  that  I  have  maintains  my  state, 
And  sends  the  poor  well  pleased  from  my  gate. 

Cade.  Here  's  the  lord  of  the  soil  come  to  seize 
me  for  a  stray,  for  entering  his  fee-simple 
without  leave.  All,  villain,  thou  wilt  betray 
me,  and  get  a  thousand  crowns  of  the  king  30 
by  carrying  my  head  to  him :  but  I  '11  make 
thee  eat  iron  like  an  ostrich,  and  swallow  my 
sword  like  a  great  pin,  ere  thou  and  I  part. 

Iden.  Why,  rude  companion,  whatsoe'er  thou  be, 
I  know  thee  not;  why  then  should  I  betray 

thee  ? 
Is  't  not  enough  to  break  into  my  garden. 
And,  like  a  thief,  to  come  to  rob  my  grounds. 
Climbing  my  walls  in  spite  of  me  the  owner, 
But  thou  wilt  brave  me  with  these  saucy  terms? 

23.  The  original  has  warning,  which  was  corrected  by  Pope,     In. 
the  preceding  line  is  is  understood  before  worth. — H.  N.  H. 

143 


Act  IV.  Sc.  X.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Cade.  Brave  thee!  aye,  by  the  best  blood  that  40 
ever  was  broached,  and  beard  thee  too. 
Look  on  me  well:  I  have  eat  no  meat  these 
five  days;  yet,  come  thou  and  thy  five  men, 
and  if  1  do  not  leave  you  all  as  dead  as  a 
door-nail,  I  pray  God  I  may  never  eat  grass 
more. 

I  den.  Nay,  it  shall  ne'er  be  said,  while  England 
stands, 
That  Alexander  Iden,  an  esquire  of  Kent, 
.  Took  odds  to  combat  a  poor  f  amish'd  man. 
Oppose  thy  steadfast-gazing  eyes  to  mine,     50 
See  if  thou  canst  outface  me  with  thy  looks: 
Set  limb  to  limb,  and  thou  are  far  the  lesser : 
Thy  hand  is  but  a  finger  to  my  fist, 
Thy    leg    a    stick    compared    with    this    trun- 
cheon ; 
My  foot  shall  fight  with  all  the  strength  thou 

hast ; 
And  if  mine  arm  be  heaved  in  the  air, 
Thj^  grave  is  digg'd  already  in  the  earth. 
As  for  words,  whose  greatness  answers  words, 
Let  this  my   sword   report  what   speech   for- 
bears. 

Cade.  By  my  valor,  the  most  complete  cham-    60 

45.  "dead  as  a  door-nail";  the  phrase  was  properly  used,  here,  of 
death  produced  by  repeated  blows,  as  of  the  door-knocker  upon  the 
"door-nail."— C.  H.  H. 

48.  "That  Alexander  Iden,  an  esquire  of  Kent";  Capell,  '"squir"; 
Marshall  omits  "an,"  following  Hall. — I.  G. 

58,  "As  for  words,  whose  greatness  answers  words";  Rowe  reads, 
"As  for  more  words,"  &c.;  Mason,  "As  for  mere  words,"  &c.;  Dyce 
(Anon,  conj.),  "But  as  for  words,"  Sac,  &c.— I.  G. 

144 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  x. 

pion  that  ever  I  heard!  Steel,  if  thou  turn 
the  edge,  or  cut  not  out  the  burly-boned 
clown  in  chines  of  beef  ere  thou  sleep  in 
thy  sheath,  I  beseech  God  on  my  knees  thou 
mayst  be  turned  to  hobnails. 

[Here  they  fight.  Cade  falls, 
O,  I  am  slain!  famine  and  no  other  hath 
slain  me:  let  ten  thousand  devils  come 
against  me,  and  give  me  but  the  ten  meals 
I  have  lost,  and  I  '11  defy  them  all.  Wither, 
garden;  and  be  henceforth  a  burying-place  70 
to  all  that  do  dwell  in  this  house,  because 
the  unconquered  soul  of  Cade  is  fled. 

I  den.  Is  't  Cade  that  I  have  slain,  that  monstrous 
traitor? 
Sword,  I  will  hallow  thee  for  this  thy  deed. 
And  hang  thee  o'er  my  tomb  when  I  am  dead: 
Ne'er  shall  this  blood  be  wiped  from  thy  point; 
But  thou  shalt  wear  it  as  a  herald's  coat. 
To  emblaze  the  honor  that  thy  master  got. 

Cade.  Iden,  farewell,  and  be  proud  of  thy  vic- 
tory.   Tell  Kent  from  me,  she  hath  lost  her     80 
best  man,  and  exhort  all  the  world  to  be  cow- 
ards; for  I,  that  never  feared  any,  am  van- 
quished by  famine,  not  by  valor.         .        [Dies. 

Iden.  How  much  thou  wrong'st  me,  heaven  be  my 
judge. 
Die,  damned  wTctch,  the  curse  of  her  that  bare 
thee ; 

64.  "God";  Malone's  correction  (from  Qq.)  of  "loue"  of  the  Ff.— 
I.  G. 

Shk-1-26  145 


Act  IV.  Sc.  X.  THE  SECOND  PART  OE 

And  as  I  thrust  thy  body  in  with  my  sword, 
So  wish  I,  I  might  thrust  thy  soul  to  hell. 
Hence  will  I  drag  thee  headlong  by  the  heels 
Unto  a  dunghill  which  shall  be  thy  grave, 
And  there  cut  off  thy  most  ungracious  head;  90 
Which  I  will  bear  in  triumph  to  the  king. 
Leaving  thy  trunk  for  crows  to  feed  upon. 

86.  "And  as  I  thrust  thy  body  in  with  my  sword";  Dyce  (Lloyd 
conj.),  omits  "in." — I.  G. 

92.  The  Poet  has  here  wandered  from  the  line  of  historical  fact, 
with  a  view,  no  doubt,  to  relieve  his  scenes  of  strife  and  hatred 
with  a  passage  of  rural  quiet  and  unambitious  comfort.  Iden  had 
in  fact  just  been  appointed  sheriff  of  Kent,  and  was  in  pursuit  of 
Cade,  having  left  home  for  that  very  purpose.  The  matter,  how- 
ever, is  thus  given  by  Holinshed:  "A  gentleman  of  Kent,  named 
Alexander  Eden,  awaited  so  his  time,  that  he  tooke  the  said  Cade 
in  a  garden  in  Sussex;  so  that  there  he  was  slain  at  Hothfield, 
and  brought  to  London  in  a  cart,  where  he  was  quartered,  his 
head  set  on  London  bridge,  and  his  quarters  sent  to  diverse  places 
to  be  set  up  in  the  shire  of  Kent."  Cade's  flight  was  on  July  9,  1450, 
and  his  death  but  two  days  after. — H.  N.  H. 


I4>6 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  FIFTH 
Scene  I 

Fields  between  Dartford  and  Blackheath. 

Enter  York,  and  his  army  of  Irish,  with  drum 

and  colors. 

York.  From  Ireland  thus  comes  York  to  claim  his 

right, 
And   pluck   the   crown   from    feeble   Henry's 

head : 
Ring,   bells,   aloud;  burn,  bonfires,   clear   and 

bright, 
To  entertain  great  England's  lawful  king. 
Ah!  sancta  majestas,  who  would  not  buy  thee 

dear? 
Let  them  obey  that  know^  not  how  to  rule ; 
This  hand  was  made  to  handle  nought  but  gold. 
I  cannot  give  due  action  to  my  words, 
Except  a  sword  or  scepter  balance  it: 
A  scepter  shall  it  have,  have  I  a  soul,  10 

On  which  I  '11  toss  the  flower-de-luce  of  France. 

Enter  Buckingham. 

Whom  have  we  here?   Buckingham,  to  disturb 
me? 

10.  "have  I,"  as  I  have.— C.  H.  H.     . 

147 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

The  king  hath  sent  him,  sure:  I  must  dissem- 
ble. 

Buck,  York,  if  thou  meanest  well,  I  greet  thee 
well. 

For  A:.  Humphrey  of  Buckingham,  I  accept  thy 
greeting. 
Art  thou  a  messenger,  or  come  of  pleasure? 

Buck.  A  messenger  from  Henry,  our  dread  hege, 
To  know  the  reason  of  these  arms  in  peace; 
Or  why  thou,  being  a  subject  as  I  am. 
Against  thy  oath  and  true  allegiance  sworn,  20 
Should  raise  so  great  a  power  without  his  leave, 
Or  dare  to  bring  thy  force  so  near  the  court. 

York.  [Aside]   Scarce  can  I  speak,  my  choler  is 
so  great: 
O,  I  could  hew  up  rocks  and  fight  with  flint, 
I  am  so  angry  at  these  abject  terms; 
And  now,  like  Ajax  Telamonius, 
On  sheep  or  oxen  could  I  spend  my  fury. 
I  am  far  better  born  than  is  the  king, 
More  like  a  king,  more  kingly  in  my  thoughts: 
But  I  must  make  fair  weather  yet  a  while,      30 
Till  Henry  be  more  weak  and  I  more  strong. — 
Buckingham,  I  prithee,  pardon  me, 
That  I  have  given  no  answer  all  this  while; 
My  mind  was  troubled  with  deep  melancholy. 
The  cause  why  I  have  brought  this  army  hither 
Is  to  remove  proud  Somerset  from  the  king. 
Seditious  to  his  grace  and  to  the  state. 

Buck.  That  is  too  much  presumption  on  thy  part: 
But  if  thy  arms  be  to  no  other  end, 
The  king  hath  yielded  unto  thy  demand:        40 

148 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

The  Duke  of  Somerset  is  in  the  Tower. 

York.  Upon  thine  honor,  is  he  prisoner? 

Buck.  Upon  mine  honor,  he  is  prisoner. 

York.  Then,  Buckingham,  I  do  dismiss  my  pow- 
ers. 
Soldiers,  I  thank  you  all;  disperse  yourselves; 
Meet  me  to-morrow  in  Saint  George's  field, 
You  shall  have  pay  and  everything  you  wish. 
And  let  my  sovereign,  virtuous  Henry, 
Command  my  eldest  son,  nay,  all  my  sons. 
As  pledges  of  my  fealty  and  love;  50 

I  '11  send  them  all  as  willing  as  I  live : 
Lands,  goods,  horse,  armor,  any  thing  I  have, 
Is  his  to  use,  so  Somerset  may  die. 

Buck.  York,  I  commend  this  kind  submission: 
We  twain  will  go  into  his  highness'  tent. 

Enter  King  and  Attendants. 

41.  York's  arrival  from  Ireland  was  in  September,  a  few  weeks 
after  Cade's  death.  Proceeding  to  London  with  a  retinue  of  four 
thousand  men,  he  wrung  from  the  king  a  promise  that  he  would 
call  a  parliament,  and  then  retired  to  one  of  his  castles.  Upon 
the  return  of  Somerset  from  France  a  few  days  later,  the  old  en- 
mity between  them  revived  with  greater  fierceness  than  ever.  The 
next  year  York  withdrew  into  Wales,  and  there  gathered  an  army 
of  ten  thousand  men;  and  when  the  king  went  against  him  with  a 
much  larger  force,  he  turned  aside  and  passed  on  into  Kent,  and 
encamped  himself  near  Dartford.  From  thence  he  sent  word  to 
the  king  that  his  coming  was  but  to  remove  certain  evil  counsellors, 
especially  Somerset,  and  promising  to  dissolve  his  army,  if  that 
nobleman  were  committed  to  prison,  and  held  to  answer  in  open 
parliament  whatever  charges  might  be  laid  against  him.  The  issue 
ot  the  negotiation  thereupon  is  thus  stated  by  Holinshed:  "After 
all  this  adoo,  it  was  agreed  upon  by  advise,  for  the  avoiding  of 
bloudshed,  and  pacifieng  of  the  duke  and  his  people,  that  the  duke  of 
Summerset  was  committed  to  ward,  as  some  say,  or  else  commanded 
to  keepe  himself e  privie  in  his  owne  house  for  a  time." — II.  N.  H. 

149 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

King.  Buckingham,  doth  York  intend  no  harm 
to  us, 

That  thus  he  marcheth  with  thee  arm  in  arm? 
York.  In  all  submission  and  humility 

York  doth  present  himself  unto  your  highness. 

King.  Then  what  intends  these  forces  thou  dost 

bring  ?  ^^ 

York.  To  heave  the  traitor  Somerset  from  hence, 

And  fight  against  that  monstrous  rebel  Cade, 

Who  since  I  heard  to  be  discomfited. 

Enter  Iden,  with  Cade's  head. 

I  den.  If  one  so  rude  and  of  so  mean  condition 
May  pass  into  the  presence  of  a  king, 
Lo,  I  present  your  grace  a  traitor's  head. 
The  head  of  Cade,  whom  I  in  combat  slew. 
King.  The  head  of  Cade!     Great  God,  how  just 
art  Thou! 
O,  let  me  view  this  visage,  being  dead. 
That  living  wrought  me  such  exceeding  trou- 
ble. '^0 
Tell  me,  my  friend,  art  thou  the  man  that  slew 
him? 
Iden.  I  was,  an  't  like  your  majesty. 
King.  How  art  thou  call'd?  and  what  is  thy  de- 
gree? 
Iden.  Alexander  Iden,  that's  my  name; 

A  poor  esquire  of  Kent,  that  loves  his  king. 
Buck.  So  please  it  you,  my  lord,  'twere  not  amiss 

74.  "Alexander  Iden,  that's  my  name";  Capell,  "My  name  is  Alex- 
ander Iden,  sir";  Hanmer,  "Ev'n  Alexander,"  &c. ;  Edd.,  "Iden,  Alex- 
ander Iden,"  &c. ;  Keightley,  "Alexander  Iden,  that's  my  name,  my 
lie  ye,"  &c.— I.  G. 

150 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

He  were  created  knight  for  his  good  service. 
King.  Iden,  kneel  down.     \_IIe  kneels.]     Rise  up 
a  knight. 

We  give  thee  for  reward  a  thousand  marks, 

And  will  that  thou  henceforth  attend  on  us.   80 
Iden.  May  Iden  live  to  merit  such  a  bounty, 

And  never  live  but  true  unto  his  liege !     \_Rises. 

Enter  Queen  and  Somerset, 

King.  See,  Buckingham,  Somerset  comes  with  the 

queen : 
Go,  bid  her  hide  him  quickly  from  the  duke. 
Queen.  For  thousand  Yorks  he  shall  not  hide  his 

head. 
But  boldly  stand  and  front  him  to  his  face. 
York.  How  now!  is  Somerset  at  liberty? 

Then,     York,     unloose     thy     long-imprison'd 

thoughts, 
And  let  thy  tongue  be  equal  with  thy  heart. 
Shall  I  endure  the  sight  of  Somerset?  90 

False  king!  why  hast  thou  broken  faith  with 

me. 
Knowing  how  hardly  I  can  brook  abuse? 
King  did  I  call  thee?  no,  thou  art  not  king. 
Not  fit  to  govern  and  rule  multitudes. 
Which   darest  not,  no,  nor  canst  not  rule  a 

traitor. 

78.  "Iden,  kneel  down.  Rise  up  a  knight";  Hanmer  reads,  "Iden 
kneel  down;  and  rise  thou  up  a  knight";  Dyce  (Lettsom  conj.).  "Iden, 
kneel  down.  Iden,  riae  up  a  knight";  Vaughan,  "Iden,  kneel  doion; 
and  now  rise  up  Sir  Alexander." — I.  G. 

95.  "darest";  monosyllabic;  F.  1,  "dar'st";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "dartt."— 
I.  G. 

151 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

That  head  of  thine  doth  not  become  a  crown ; 
Thy  hand  is  made  to  grasp  a  palmer's  staiF, 
And  not  to  grace  an  awful  princely  scepter. 
That  gold  must  round  engirt  these  brows  of 

mine, 
Whose  smile  and  frown,  like  to  Achilles'  spear. 
Is  able  with  the  change  to  kill  and  cure.        101 
Here  is  a  hand  to  hold  a  scepter  up, 
And  with  the  same  to  act  controlling  laws. 
Give  place:  by  heaven,  thou  shalt  rule  no  more 
O'er  him  whom  heaven  created  for  thy  ruler. 
Som.  O  monstrous  traitor  1    I  arrest  thee,  York, 
Of  capital  treason  'gainst  the  king  and  crown: 
Obey,  audacious  traitor;  kneel  for  grace. 
York.  Wouldst  have  me  kneel?  first  let  me  ask  of 
these. 
If  they  can  brook  I  bow  a  knee  to  man.        HO 
Sirrah,  call  in  my  sons  to  be  my  bail : 

\_Exit  Attendant. 
I  know,  ere  they  will  have  me  go  to  ward. 
They  '11  pawn  their  swords  for  my  enfranchise- 
ment. 
Queen.  Call  hither  Clifford;  bid  him  come  amain, 
To  say  if  that  the  bastard  boys  of  York 
Shall  be  the  surety  for  their  traitor  father. 

[Exit  Buckingham. 
York.  O  blood-bespotted  Neapolitan, 

Outcast  of  Naples,  England's  bloody  scourge! 
The  sons  of  York,  thy  betters  in  their  birth, 

100.  "Achilles'  spear"  was  proverbial  for  its  power  to  heal  as  well 
as  slay.  The  myth  of  Telephus  related  how,  having  been  wounded 
by  the  spear,  he  was  cured  by  the  rust  scraped  from  it. — C.  H.  H. 

109.  "these";  Theobald's  correction  of  "thee"  of  the  Ff.— I.  G. 

152 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Shall  be  their  father's  bail ;  and  bane  to  tliose  120 
That  for  my  surety  will  refuse  the  boys! 

Enter  Edward  and  Richard. 

See  where  they  come :  I  '11  warrant  they  '11  make 
it  good. 

Enter  Clifford  and  his  son. 

Queen.  And  here  comes  Clifford  to  deny  their  bail. 

Ciif.  Health  and  all  happiness  to  my  lord  the  king ! 

[Kneels. 

York.  I  thank  thee,  Clifford:  say,  what  news  with 
thee? 
Nay,  do  not  fright  us  with  an  angry  look: 
We  are  thy  sovereign,  Clifford,  kneel  again; 
For  thy  mistaking  so,  R\^e  pardon  thee. 

Clif.  This  is  my  king,  York,  I  do  not  mistake; 
But  thou  mistakest  me  much  to  think  I  do :  130 
To  Bedlam  with  him!  is  the  man  grown  mad? 

132,  "Enter  Edward  and  Richard."  At  this  time,  U52,  Edward, 
York's  oldest  son,  was  but  ten  years  old.  However,  Hollnshed  re- 
lates, that  "whilest  the  councell  treated  of  saving  or  dispatching  the 
dulie  of  Yorke,  a  ruraor  sprang  through  London,  that  Edward  earle 
of  March,  sonne  and  heir-apparent  to  the  said  duke,  with  a  great 
armie  of  Marchmen  was  comming  toward  London;  which  tidings  sore 
appalled  the  queene  and  the  whole  councell."  The  issue  of  tliis 
trouble  was,  that  "the  councell  set  the  duke  of  Yorke  at  libertie,  and 
permitted  him  to  go  to  his  castell  of  Wigmore,  in  the  marches  of 
Wales;  by  whose  absence  the  duke  of  Summerset  rose  in  such  high 
favor,  both  with  the  king  and  queene,  that  his  voice  onelie  ruled, 
and  his  voice  alone  was  heard." — H.  N.  H. 

130.  "mistakest";  so  Ff.  2,  3,  4;  F.  1,  "mistakes."— I.  G. 

131.  This  "hospitall  for  distracted  people"  was  founded,  accord- 
ing to  Stowe,  by  Simon  Fitz-Mary,  one  of  the  sheriffs  of  Lon- 
don, in  the  year  1246.  It  was  called  "The  Hospital  of  St.  Mary 
of  Bethlehem";  which  latter  term  was  corrupted  into  Bedlam. — 
In  this  part  of  the  scene,  the  Poet,  in  order  to  come  at  once  upon 

153 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

King,  Aye,  Clifford;  a  bedlam  and  ambitious  hu- 
mor 
Makes  him  oppose  himself  against  his  king. 

Clif.  He  is  a  traitor ;  let  him  to  the  Tower, 
And  chop  away  that  factious  pate  of  his. 

Queen.  He  is  arrested,  but  will  not  obey; 

His  sons,  he  says,  shall  give  their  words  for 
him. 

York.  Will  you  not,  sons? 

Edw.  Aye,  noble  father,  if  our  words  will  serve. 

Bich.  And  if  words  will  not,  then  our  weapons 
shall.  140 

Clif.  Why,  what  a  brood  of  traitors  have  we  here! 

York.  Look  in  a  glass,  and  call  thy  image  so : 
I  am  thy  king,  and  thou  a  false-heart  traitor^ 
Call  hither  to  the  stake  my  two  brave  bears, 
That  with  the  very  shaking  of  their  chains 
They  may  astonish  these  fell-lurking  curs: 

the  battle  of  St.  Albans,  overleaps  a  period  of  three  years,  from 
March,  1452,  to  the  spring  of  1455,  during  which  time  the  queen 
gave  birth  to  a  son,  who  was  named  Edward,  and,  the  king  hav- 
ing fallen  into  a  state  of  bodily  and  mental  imbecility,  York  re- 
gained the  ascendancy  and  became  protector,  and  Somerset  was 
committed  to  the  Tower,  but,  upon  the  king's  recovery  not  long 
after,  was  released;  whereupon  York  withdrew  into  Wales,  and 
gathered  the  army  which  fought  on  his  side  in  the  ensuing  battle." — 
H.  N.  H. 

135.  It  was  Somerset,  not  Clifford,  that  gave  this  advice:  "The 
duke  of  Summerset,  which  now  conceived  in  his  mind  the  thing  that 
shortlie  followed,  incessantlie  exhorted  the  councell,  that  the  duke  of 
Yorke  might  be  driven  to  confesse  his  offence,  that  so,  being  at- 
teinted  of  treason,  he  might  suffer  execution,  and  his  children  to  be 
taken  as  adversaries  to  their  native  countrie"  (Holinshed). — H.  N.  H. 

146.  "fell-lurkinff";  Roderick,  "fell-bnrking";  Hudson  (Heath 
conj.),  "fell-l'urchinfj";  Collier  (Collier  MS.),  "fell-looking";  Capell, 
"fell  lurking."— I.  G. 


154 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Bid  Salisbury  and  Warwick  come  to  me. 
Enter  the  Earls  of  Warwick  and  Salisbury. 

Clif.  Are  these  thy  bears?  we'll  bait  thy  bears  to 
death, 
And  manacle  the  bear-ward  in  their  chains, 
If  thou  darest  bring  them  to  the  baiting-place. 
Rich.  Oft  have  I  seen  a  hot  o'erweening  cur        1^1 
Run  back  and  bite,  because  he  was  withheld; 
Who,  being  sufFer'd  with  the  bear's  fell  paw, 
Hath  clapp'd  his  tail  between  his  legs  and  cried: 
And  such  a  piece  of  service  will  you  do. 
If  you  oppose  yourselves  to  match  Lord  War- 
wick. 
Clif.  Hence,  heap  of  wrath,  foul  indigested  lump, 

As  crooked  in  thy  manners  as  thy  shape! 
York.  Nay,  we  shall  heat  you  thoroughlj'-  anon. 
Clif,  Take  heed,  lest  by  your  heat  you  burn  your- 
selves. 1^0 
King.  Why,  Warwick,  hath  thy  knee  forgot  to 
bow  ? 
Old  Salisbury,  shame  to  thy  silver  hair. 
Thou  mad  misleader  of  thy  brain-sick  son! 
What,  wilt  thou  on  thy  death-bed  play  the  ruf- 
fian, 

158.  In  the  stage-direction  of  the  quarto  we  have,— "Enter  the 
Duke  of  York's  sons,  Edward  the  Earl  of  March,  and  crook-back 
Richard,  at  the  one  door,  with  Drum  and  Soldiers." — The  Poet 
here  anticipates  by  many  years;  for  as  York's  oldest  son  was  at 
this  time  but  thirteen,  and  as  there  were  two  others,  Edmund  and 
George,  between  him  and  Richard,  of  course  the  latter  could  have 
no  part  in  these  transactions.  A  similar  anticipation  touching  Prince 
Henry  occurs  near  the  close  of  King  Richard  II;  and,  indeed,  the 
thing  is  so  in  keeping  with  Shakespeare's  method  of  art,  that  it  may 
go  far  towards  inferring  his  authorship  of  the  original  play. — H. 
N.  H. 

15S 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

And  seek  for  sorrow  with  thy  spectacles? 
O,  where  is  faith?    O,  where  is  loyalty? 
If  it  be  banish'd  from  the  frosty  head, 
Where  shall  it  find  a  harbor  in  the  earth? 
Wilt  thou  go  dig  a  grave  to  find  out  war, 
And  shame  thine  honorable  age  with  blood?  170 
Why  art  thou  old,  and  want'st  experience? 
Or  wherefore  dost  abuse  it,  if  thou  hast  it? 
For  shame!  in  duty  bend  thy  knee  to  me. 
That  bows  unto  the  grave  with  mickle  age. 

Sal.  My  lord,  I  have  consider'd  with  myself 
The  title  of  this  most  renowned -duke; 
And  in  my  conscience  do  repute  his  grace 
The  rightful  heir  to  England's  royal  seat. 

King.  Hast  thou  not  sworn  allegiance  unto  me? 

Sal.  I  have.  180 

King.  Canst  thou  dispense  with  heaven  for  such 
an  oath? 

Sal.  It  is  great  sin  to  swear  unto  a  sin. 
But  greater  sin  to  keep  a  sinful  oath. 
Who  can  be  bound  by  any  solemn  vow 
To  do  a  murderous  deed,  to  rob  a  man, 
To  force  a  spotless  virgin's  chastity. 
To  reave  the  orphan  of  his  patrimony, 
To  wring  the  widow  from  her  custom'd  right, 
And  have  no  other  reason  for  this  wrong 
But  that  he  was  bound  by  a  solemn  oath?     190 

Queen.  A  subtle  traitor  needs  no  sophister. 

King.  Call  Buckingham,  and  bid  him  arm  himself. 

York.  Call  Buckingham,  and  all  the  friends  thou 
hast, 

170.  "shame";  Dyce  (Walker  conj.),  "stain."— I.  G. 

156 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

I  am  resolved  for  death  or  dignity. 

Clif.  The  first  I  warrant  thee,  if  dreams  prove 
true. 

War.  You  were  best  to  go  to  bed  and  dream  again, 
To  keep  thee  from  the  tempest  of  the  field. 

Clif.  I  am  resolved  to  bear  a  greater  storm 
Than  any  thou  canst  conjure  up  to-day; 
And  that  I  '11  write  upon  thy  burgonet,  200 

Might  I  but  know  thee  by  thy  household  badge. 

War.  Now,    by   my    father's   badge,   old   Nevil's 
crest. 
The  rampant  bear  chain'd  to  the  ragged  staff, 
This  day  I  '11  wear  aloft  my  burgonet. 
As  on  a  mountain  top  the  cedar  shows 
That  keeps  his  leaves  in  spite  of  any  storm, 
Even  to  affright  thee  with  the  view  thereof. 

Clif.  And  from  the  burgonet  I  '11  rend  thy  bear, 
And  tread  it  under  foot  with  all  contempt. 
Despite  the  bear-ward  that  protects  the  bear.  210 

Y.  Clif.  And  so  to  arms,  victorious  father, 
To  quell  the  rebels  and  their  complices. 

Bicli.  Fie!  charity,  for  shame!  speak  not  in  spite. 
For  thou  shall  sup  with  Jesu  Christ  to-night. 

Y.  Clif.  Foul  stigmatic,   that 's  more  than  thou 
canst  tell. 

'Hick.  If  not  in  heaven,  you  '11  surely  sup  in  hell. 

[Exeunt  severally. 

211.  "victorious";  so  F.  1;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  read  "victorious  noble."— 
I.  G. 

215.  One  on  whom  nature  has  set  a  mark  of  deformity,  a  sticrma. 
It  was  originally  and  properly  "a  person  who  had  l)een  branded  with 
a  hot  iron  for  some  crime;  one  notably  defamed  for  naughtiness." — 
H.  N.  R 

157 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Scene  II 

Saint  Albans, 

Alarums  to  the  battle.    Enter  Warwick. 

War.  Clifford  of  Cumberland,  'tis  Warwick  calls: 
And  if  thou  dost  not  hide  thee  from  the  bear, 
Now,  when  the  angry  trumpet  sounds  alarum, 
And  dead  men's  cries  do  fill  the  empty  air, 
Clifford,  I  say,  come  forth  and  fight  with  me: 
Proud  northern  lord,  Clifford  of  Cumberland, 
Warwick  is  hoarse  with  calling  thee  to  arms. 

Enter  York. 

How  now,  my  noble  lord!  what,  all  a- foot? 
York.  The  deadly -handed  Clifford  slew  my  steed, 
But  match  to  match  I  have  encounter'd  him,  10 
And  made  a  prey  for  carrion  kites  and  crows 
Even  of  the  bonny  beast  he  loved  so  well. 

Enter  Clifford. 

War.  Of  one  or  both  of  us  the  time  is  come. 
York.  Hold,  Warwick,  seek  thee  out  some  other 
chase. 
For  I  myself  must  hunt  this  deer  to  death. 
War.  Then,  nobly,  York;  'tis  for  a  crown  thou 
fight'st. 
As  I  intend,  Clifford,  to  thrive  to-day, 
It  grieves  my  soul  to  leave  thee  unassail'd. 

[Exit, 


158 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

Cllf.  What  seest  thou  in  me,  York  ?  why  dost  thou 

pause? 
York.  With  thy  brave  bearing  should  I  be  in  love, 
But  that  thou  are  so  fast  mine  enemy.  21 

Clif.  Nor  should  thy  prowess  want  praise  and  es- 
teem 
But  that  'tis  shown  ignobly  and  in  treason. 
York.   So  let  it  help  me  now  against  thy  sword, 

As  I  in  justice  and  true  right  express  it. 
Clif.  My  soul  and  body  on  the  action  both! 
York.  A  dreadful  lay!    Address  thee  instantly. 

[They  fight,  and  Clifford  falls. 

Clif.  La  fin  couronne  les  oeuvres.  [Dies. 

York.  Thus  war  hath  given  thee  peace,  for  thou 

art  still. 

Peace  with  his  soul,  heaven,  if  it  be  thy  will!  30 

[Ecvit. 

Enter  young  Clifford. 

Y.  Clif.  Shame  and  confusion!  all  is  on  the  rout; 
Fear  frames  disorder,  and  disorder  wounds 

28.  "La  fin  couronne  les  auvrcs";  i.  e.  "the  end  crowns  the  work"; 
F.  1  reads,  "Corrone  les  eiimenes";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Corronne  les  oevres." 
—I.  G. 

30.  The  author,  in  making  Cliflford  fall  by  the  hand  of  York,  has 
departed  from  the  truth  of  history,  a  practice  not  uncommon  with 
him  when  he  does  his  utmost  to  make  his  characters  considerable. 
This  circumstance,  however,  serves  to  prepare  tiie  reader  or  spec- 
tator for  the  vengeance  afterwards  taken  by  Clifford's  son  on  York 
and  Rutland.  At  the  beginning  of  the  Third  Part  the  Poet  rep- 
resents Clifford's  death  as  it  really  happened: 

"Lord  Clifford,  and  lord  Stafford,  all  a-breast, 
Charg'd  our  main  battle's  front,  and,  breaking  in, 
Were  by  the  swords  of  common  soldiers  slain." — H.  N.  H. 


159 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Where  it  should  guard.     O  war,  thou  son  of 

hell, 
Whom  angry  heavens  do  make  their  minister, 
Throw  in  the  frozen  bosoms  of  our  part 
Hot  coals  of  vengeance!    Let  no  soldier  fly. 
He  that  is  truly  dedicate  to  war 
Hath  no  self-love,  nor  he  that  loves  himself 
Hath  not  essentially  but  by  circumstance 
The  name  of  valor.     [Seeing  his  dead  father'\ 

O,  let  the  vile  world  end,  40 

And  the  premised  flames  of  the  last  day 
Knit  earth  and  heaven  together! 
Now  let  the  general  trumpet  blow  his  blast, 
Particularities  and  petty  sounds 
To  cease!    Wast  thou  ordain'd,  dear  father, 
To  lose  thy  youth  in  peace,  and  to  achieve 
The  silver  livery  of  advised  age, 
And,  in  thy  reverence  and  thy  chair-days,  thus 
To  die  in  ruffian  battle?    Even  at  this  sight    49 
My  heart  is  turn'd  to  stone :  and  while  'tis  mine, 
It   shall   be    stony.     York   not   our    old   men 

spares ; 
Ko  more  will  I  their  babes:  tears  virginal 
Shall  be  to  me  even  as  the  dew  to  fire, 
And  beauty  that  the  tyrant  oft  reclaims 
Shall  to  my  flaming  wrath  be  oil  and  flax. 
Henceforth  I  will  not  have  to  do  with  pity: 
Meet  I  an  infant  of  the  house  of  York, 
Into  as  many  gobbets  will  I  cut  it 

42.  "Knit  earth  and  heaven  together";  Vaughan  adds  "in  one  blase." 
—I.  G. 


160 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  ii. 

As  wild  ^ledea  young  Absyrtus  did : 

In  cruelty  will  I  seek  out  my  fame.  60 

Come,  thou  new  ruin  of  old  Clifford's  house: 

As  did  iEneas  old  ^Vnchises  bear, 

So  bear  I  thee  upon  my  manly  shoulders; 

But  then  ^Eneas  bare  a  living  load. 

Nothing  so  heavy  as  these  woes  of  mine. 

\_Eait,  bearing  off  his  father. 

Enter  Richard  and  Somerset  to  fight,     Somerset 

is  killed. 

Rich.  So,  lie  thou  there; 

For  underneath  an  alehouse'  paltry  sign, 
The  Castle  in  Saint  Alban's,  Somerset 
Hath  made  the  wizard  famous  in  his  death. 
Sword,   hold  thy  temper;  heart,   be   wrathful 
still:  '^0 

Priests  pray  for  enemies,  but  princes  kill. 

lEa:it. 

Fight.     Excursions.     Enter  King,  Queen, 

and  others. 

Queen.  Away,  my  lord!  you  are  slow;  for  shame, 

away ! 
King.  Can   we   outrun   the   heavens?   good   ^lar- 

garet,  stay. 

59.  When  Medea  fled  with  Jason  from  Colchos,  she  murdered  her 
brother  Ahsyrtus,  and  cut  his  body  into  several  pieces,  that  her  father 
might  be  prevented  for  some  time  from  pursuing  her. — H.  N.  H. 

66.  "So,  Ue  thou  there";  Malone  supposes  that  a  line  has  been 
omitted  here,  equivalent  to  "Behold  the  prophecy  is  come  to  pass"; 
Vaughan  conj.  adds  "fidfiUinp  prophecy ." — 1.  G. 

69.  "the  irizard"  i.  e.  Bolingbroke,  who  in  i.  4.  warned  Somerset 
to  "shun  castles."— C.  H.  H. 

161 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  SECOND  PART  OF 

Queen.  What  are  you  made  of?  you  '11  nor  fight 

nor  fly: 
Now  is  it  manhood,  wisdom  and  defense, 
To  give  the  enemy  way,  and  to  secure  us 
By  what  we  can,  which  can  no  more  but  fly. 

[Alarum  afar  off. 
If  you  be  ta'en,  we  then  should  see  the  bottom 
Of  all  our  fortunes:  but  if  we  haply  scape, 
As  well  we  may,  if  not  through  your  neglect,  80 
We  shall  to  London  get,  where  you  are  loved. 
And  where  this  breach  now  in  our  fortunes 

made 
May  readily  be  stopp'd. 

Re-enter  young  Cliff  orU. 

Y.  Clif.  But  that  my  heart 's  on  future  mischief 
set, 
I  would  speak  blasphemy  ere  bid  you  fly: 
But  fly  you  must;  uncurable  discomfit 
Reigns  in  the  hearts  of  all  our  present  parts. 
Away,  for  your  relief!  and  we  will  live 
To  see  their  day  and  them  our  fortune  give: 
Away,  my  lord,  away!  \_Eoceunt.  90 

87.  "parts";  Hanmer  reads  "poio'rs";  Warburton,  "party";  Collier 
MS.,  "f rends";  Dyce  (Walker  conj.),  "part."— I.  G. 


162 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  m. 


Scene  III 

Fields  near  St.  Albans. 

Alarum.     Retreat     Enter  York,  Richard,  War- 
wick, and  soldiers,  with  drum  and  colors. 

York.  Of  Salisbury,  who  can  report  of  him, 
That  winter  Hon,  who  in  rage  forgets 
Aged  contusions  and  all  brush  of  time, 
And,  hke  a  gallant  in  the  brow  of  youth, 
Repairs  him  with  occasion?    This  happy  day 
Is  not  itself,  nor  have  we  won  one  foot. 
If  Salisbury  be  lost. 

Rich.  My  noble  father, 

Three  times  to-day  I  holp  him  to  his  horse, 
Three  times  bestrid  him;  thrice  I  led  him  off, 
Persuaded  him  from  any  further  act:  10 

But  still,  where  danger  was,  still  there  I  met 

him; 
And  like  rich  hangings  in  a  homely  house, 
So  was  his  will  in  his  old  feeble  body. 
But,  noble  as  he  is,  look  where  he  comes. 

Enter  Salisbury. 

Sal.  Now,  by  my  sword,  well  hast  thou  fought  to- 
day; 
By  the  mass,  so  did  we  all.     I  thank  vou.  Rich- 

ard : 
God  knows  how  long  it  is  I  have  to  live ; 

1.  "of";  Collier  MS.  (from  Qq.),  "Old,"  adopted  by  Dyce.— I.  G. 

163 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  KING  HENRY  VI 

And  it  hath  pleased  him  that  three  times  to-day 
You  have  defended  me  from  imminent  death. 
Well,  lords,  we  have  not  got  that  which  we 
have :  20 

'Tis  not  enough  our  foes  are  this  time  fled, 
Being  opposites  of  such  repairing  nature. 

York.  I  know  our  safety  is  to  follow  them; 
For,  as  I  hear,  the  king  is  fled  to  London, 
To  call  a  present  court  of  parliament. 
Let  us  pursue  him  ere  the  writs  go  forth. 
What  says  Lord  Warwick?  shall  we  after  them? 

War.  After  them!  nay,  before  them,  if  we  can. 
Now,  by  my  faith,  lords,  'twas  a  glorious  day: 
Saint  Alban's  battle  won  bv  famous  York    30 
Shall  be  eternized  in  all  age  to  come. 
Sound  drums  and  trumpets,  and  to  London  all : 
And  more  such  days  aa  these  to  us  befall ! 

\_EoceunL 

29.  "faith";  Malone's  correction  (from  Qq.) ;  Ff.,  "hand."— I.  G. 


164 


GLOSSARY 

By  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. 


A',  he;  I.  iii.  7. 

Abortive,   monstrous,   unnatural; 

IV.  i.  60. 

Abrook,    brook,    endure;    II.    iv. 

10. 
Absvrtus,  Medea's  brother,  killed 

and      dismembered      by      her; 

(Theobald's  correction  of   Ff., 

"Absirtis";  Rowe,  "Absirtus")  ; 

V.  ii.  59. 

AccoMPT,  accounts;  IV.  ii.  108. 

Accuse,  accusation;  III.  i.  160. 

Achilles'  spear,  alluding  to  the 
story  that  Telephus  was  cured 
by  the  rust  scraped  from 
Achilles'  spear  by  which  he  had 
been   wounded;   V.   i.   100. 

Act,  put  in  action;  (Capell,  "en- 
act"; Vaughan,  "coact") ;  V.  i. 
103. 

Adder,  a  venomous  snake,  sup- 
posed to  stop  its  ears  and  ren- 
der itself  deaf  (cp.  Psalm 
Iviii.  4,  5)  ;  III.  ii.  76. 

Address  thee,  prepare  thyself; 
V.  ii.  27. 

Adsum,  I  am  here;  (F.  1,  "Ad 
sum")  ;  I.  iv.  26. 

Advance,  raise  up;  IV.  i.  98. 

Adventure,  run  the  risk;  III.  ii. 
350. 

Advertised,  informed;  IV.  ix.  23. 

Advice,  deliberate  consideration; 
II.  ii.  68. 

Advised,  careful,  II.  iv.  36;  se- 
date, V.  ii.  47. 

'Advised,    "are    ye   a."    did   you 


hear?  do  you  understand?; 
(Capell,  "avis'd");   II.   i.  48. 

jEolus,  the  god  of  the  winds; 
III.  ii.  92. 

Affected,  aimed  at;  IV.  vii.  104. 

Affiance,  confidence;  III.  i.  74. 

Affy,  aflBance;  IV.  i.  80. 

Aidance,  assistance;   III.  ii.   165. 

Ajax  Telamonius,  Ajax  the  son 
of  Telamon,  the  Greek  hero, 
who  slew  a  whole  flock  of 
sheep,  which  in  his  frenzy  he 
took  for  the  sons  of  Atreus; 
V.  i.  26. 

Alder-liefest,  dearest,  very  dear- 
est of  all;  I.  i.  28. 

Altii.ea,  the  mother  of  Melea- 
ger,  the  prince  of  Calydon, 
whose  life  was  to  last  only  as 
long  as  a  certain  fire-brand 
was  preserved;  Althsea  threw 
it  into  the  fire,  and  he  died  in 
great  torture;  I.  i.  234. 

Amain,  in  great  haste,  swiftly; 
III.  i.  282. 

Anchises,  the  father  of  .^neas; 
V.  ii.  62. 

An't  like,  if  it  please;  V.  i. 
72. 

Approntid,  proved;  III.  ii.  22. 

Argo,  a  corruption  of  ergo;  IV. 
ii.  31. 

Argues,  proves,  shows;  III.  iii. 
30. 

Argument,  a  sign  in  proof,  I. 
ii.  32;  III.  i.  241. 

Ahms,  coat  of  arms;  IV.  i.  49. 


165 


Glossary 


THE  SECOND  PART  OF 


As,  that;  (Pope,  "That");  II.  iv. 
45. 

AscANius,  the  son  of  ^neas;  III. 
ii.  116. 

AsMATH,  the  name  of  an  evil 
spirit;  I.  iv.  27. 

Assay'd,  attempted;  IV.  v.  9. 

At  once,  in  a  word;  III.  i.  66. 

Attainted,  convicted  of  capital 
treason;  II.  iv.  59. 

Avoid,  avaunt,  be  gone;  I.  iv.  43. 

Awful,  awe-inspiring;  V.  i.  98. 

Awkward,  adverse;  (Pope,  "ad- 
verse") ;  III.  ii.  83. 

Bait  thy  bears;  bear-baiting 
was  a  popular  amusement  of 
Shakespeare's  day;  (F.  1, 
"bate";  F.  2,  "baile");  V.  i. 
148. 

Banditto,  outlaw;  (Ff.,  "Ban- 
detto");  IV.  i.  135. 

Ban-dogs,  fierce  dogs  held  in 
bands,   or   chained;    I.   iv.   21. 

Bane,  destruction,  ruin;  (Theo- 
bald, "bale";) ;  V.  i.  120. 

"Bargulus  the  strong  Illyrian 
pirate";  The  Contention  reads 
"Abradas,  the  great  Macedo- 
nian pirate,"  to  whom  refer- 
ence is  made  in  Greene's  Pene- 
lope's Web;  Bargulus  is  men- 
tioned in  Cicero's  De  O/Jlciis; 
his  proper  name  was  Bardylis; 
he  was  originally  a  collier,  and 
ultimately  became  king  of  Illy- 
ria;  he  was  defeated  and  slain 
in  battle  by  Philip  of  Mace- 
don;  IV.  i.  108. 

Basiusk,  a  fabulous  serpent  sup- 
posed to  kill  by  its  look;  III. 
ii.  52. 

Basimecu,  a  term  of  contempt 
for  a  Frenchman;  IV.  viL  32. 

Beard,  defy;  IV.  x.  40. 

BEAsa;  alluding  to  the  cognizance 


of  the  Nevils  of   Warwick,  a 

bear   and   ragged    staff;    V.   i. 

144. 
Bear-ward,  bear-leader;    (Pope's 

correction    of    Ff.    1,    2,    "Be- 

rard,"    Ff.   3,   4,   "Bearard"); 

V.  i.  149. 
Beat   on,   hammer   on,    keep   on 

thinking  about;  II.  i.  20. 
Bedlam,  a  hospital  for  lunatics; 

V.  i.  131. 
Bedlam,  lunatic;  III.  i.  51;  V.  i. 

132. 
Beldam,   term   of   contempt   for 

an     Id  woman;  I.  iv.  45. 
Beshrew,   woe  to;   a  mild   form 

of  imprecation;  III.  i.  184. 
Bested;  "worse  b.,"  "in  a  worse 

plight";  II.  iii.  56. 
Bestrid,  bestrode,  stood  over  him 

in  posture  of  defense ;  V.  iii.  9. 
Betime,  in  good  time;  III.  i.  285. 
Bezonians,  beggars;  IV.  i.  134. 
Bills;  "take  up  bills,"  get  goods 

o'  credit,  with  a  quibble  on  (1) 

"bills  n  =  halberds,  (2)  "bills" 

=  promissory    notes;    IV.    vii. 

137. 
Blabbing,    blurting   out   secrets; 

IV.  i.  1. 
Blood-consuming  sighs,  referring 

to  the  old  idea  that  each  sigh 

drew  a  drop  of  blood  from  the 

heart;  III.  ii.  61. 
Bona  terra,  mala  gens,  i.  e.  "a 

good     land,     a     bad     people" 

(quoted    by    Lord    Say,    with 

reference    to    Kent) ;    IV.    vii. 

64. 
Bones;  "by  these  ten  b.,"  i.  e.  by 

these  ten  fingers;  an  old  form 

of  oath;  I.  iii.  196. 
Book,     learning;      (Anon.     conj. 

"books");  IV.   vii.  79. 
Boot,  booty;  IV.  i.  13. 
Brave,  defy;  IV.  x.  4&. 


166 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


Brazen,     strong,     impregnal)le; 

III.  ii.  89. 

Ba£AK  UP,  break  open;  (Collier 
MS.,  "break  ope") ;  I.  iv.  22. 

Bristol  (Ff.,  "Bristow");  III.  i. 
328. 

Broker,  agent,  negotiator;  I.  11. 
100. 

Brook;  "flying  at  the  b.,"  letting 
the  falcon  rise  to  pursue  his 
game;  II.  i.  1. 

Brook,  endure,  bear;  V.  i.  92. 

Bbow,  aspect,  appearance  (John- 
son, "bloir";  Becket,  "browse"; 
Collier  (Collier  MS.),  "bloom"; 
Anon.,  "glow";  Cartwright, 
"prime")  ;  V.  iii.  4. 

Brown  bill,  a  kind  of  halberd; 

IV.  X.  14. 

Brush,   hurt,   injury;    (Warbur- 

ton,  "bruise") ;  V.'  iii.  3. 
Bucklers,  shields,  defends;  III. 

ii.  216. 
Buckram,  coarse  linen  stiffened 

with  glue;  IV.  vii.  28. 
Bucks,  linen  for  washing;  IV.  ii. 

53. 
Bcrgonet,  a  close-fitting  helmet; 

V.  i.  200. 

But  that,  only  that  one;  II.  i. 
99. 

Buz,  whisper;  I.  ii.  99. 

By,  according  to;  III.  i.  243. 

By  AND  BY,  immediately;  II.  i. 
142. 

By  that,  about  that,  on  that  sub- 
ject; II.  1.  16. 

Cade,  small  barrel;  IV.  11.  35. 
Cage,  lock-up;  IV.  ii.  58. 
Callet,    a    low    woman    (Dyce's 

emendation  of  Ff.,  ''Callot"); 

I.  iii.  88. 
Calm'd,  becalmed;  IV.  ix.  33. 
Cask,   casket    (Rowe,   "casket"); 

III.  ii.  409. 

1 


Cease,  to  cause  to  cease;  V.  ii. 

45. 
Censure,  opinion;  I.  iii.  122. 
Censure    well,   approve;    III.  1. 

275. 
Chafe,  heat,  warm;  III.  ii.  141. 
Chaps,  jaws,  mouth;  III.  i.  259. 
Charm,  appease,  make  silent;  IV. 

I.  64. 

Chahneco,  a  kind  of  sweet  wine, 
■   made  at  a  village  near  Lisbon; 

II.  iii.  63. 

Check'd,  reproved,  rebuked;  I. 
ii.  54. 

CiRcuw,  circlet,  diadem;  III.  i. 
352. 

Circumstance,  detailed  phrases; 
I.  1.  105. 

Cited,  Incited,  urged;  III.  ii.  281. 

Clapp'd  up,  shut  up;  I.  iv.  53. 

Clerkly,  scholarly;  III.  1.  179. 

Clime,  country;  III.  ii.  84. 

Clip,  embrace,  surround;  (Theo- 
bald's correction  of  Ff., 
"Cleape";  Pope,  "Clap");  IV. 
i.  6. 

Close,  retired,  private;  II.  ii.  3; 
secret,  II.  iv.  73. 

Clouted  shoon,  patched  shoes; 
generally  used  for  hobnailed 
boots;  IV.  ii.  204. 

Collect,   gather   by  observation; 

III.  1.  35. 

Color,  pretext;  III.  i.  236. 

Commandments,  "my  ten  c,"  my 
ten  fingers;  a  cant  phrase  of 
the  time,  still  in  use;  I.  Hi.  147. 

Commodities,  goods,  merchandise; 

IV.  vii.  135. 

Companion,  fellow;  used  con- 
temptuously; IV.  X.  34. 

Complot,  plot;  III.  i.  147. 

Concert  (Ff.,  "Consorf);  a 
company  of  musicians;  III.  iL 
327. 

CoNomoN,  rank;  V.  i.  64. 

67 


Glossary 


THE  SECOND  PART  OF 


Conduct,  conductor,  escort;  II. 
iv.  101. 

CoKJUBATioKS,  incantations ;  I. 
ii.  99. 

CoxTROLLER,  ccnsurcr,  detractr"-, 
perhaps  "dictator";  III.  ii. 
205. 

Con\t;nient,  proper,  becoming; 
I.  iv.  9. 

Con\t;nticles,  secret  assemblies; 
III.  i.  166. 

CoRROsi\'E,  a  pain-giving  medica- 
ment; III.  ii.  403. 

Court-hand,  the  manner  of  writ- 
ing used  in  judicial  proceed- 
ings;  I\  .  ii.  106. 

Courtship,  courthness;  I.  iii.  59. 

Crab-tree,  tree  that  bears  crab- 
apples;  III.  ii.  214. 

CuLLioNS,  base  wretches;  I.  iii. 
45. 

Curst,  shrewish,  sharp;  III.  ii. 
312. 

Custom'd,  customary;  V.  i.  188. 

Day,  time,  space;  II.  i.  2, 

Dead  as  a  dooh-nail,  a  prover- 
bial expression;  "the  door-nail 
is  the  nail  on  which,  in  an- 
cient doors,  the  knocker  strikes. 
It  is  therefore  used  as  a  com- 
parison to  any  one  irrecover- 
ably dead,  one  who  has  fallen 
(as  Virgil  says)  multa  morte, 
that  is,  with  abundant  death, 
such  as  iteration  of  strokes  on 
the  head  would  naturally  pro- 
duce"; IV.  X.  44. 

Deathful,  deadly;  III.  ii.  404. 

Deatiisman,  executioner;  III.  ii. 
217. 

Dedicate,  dedicated;  V.  ii.  37. 

Deep-fet,  deep-fetched;  II.  iv. 
33. 

Demanding  of,  questioning 
about;  II.  i.  176. 


Demean,  deport,  behave;  I.  i. 
188. 

Demean'd,  conducted;  I.  iii.  106. 

Denay'd,  denied;  (F.  4,  "de- 
ny'd")i  I.  iii.  109. 

Depart,  departure;  I.  i.  2. 

Discharge,  (?)  payment;  (per- 
haps "giving  up  the  troops  and 
turning  them  over  to  my  com- 
mand") ;  I.  iii.  174. 

DiscojiFiT,  discouragement;  (Ff., 
"discomfite";  Capell,  "discom- 
fort") ;  V.  ii.  86. 

Dispense  with,  obtain  dispensa- 
tion from;  V.  i.  181. 

Dispuhsed,  disbursed;  (F.  4,  "dis- 
bursed"); III.  i.  117. 

Distract,  distracted;  III.  ii. 
318. 

Doit,  the  smallest  piece  of 
money;  the  twelfth  part  of  a 
penny;  III.  i.  112. 

Drain,  drop  ( Rann,  Capell, 
"rain")'.  III.  ii.  142. 

Eahnest-gaping,  earnestly  rivet- 
ed; (Anon.  conj.  "earnest-gaz- 
ing"); III.  ii.  105. 

Effected,  effectively  proved;  III. 
i.  170. 

Emblaze,  emblazon,  glorify  be- 
fore the  world;  IV.  x.  79. 

Emmanuel;  an  allusion  to  the 
fact  that  documents  were  fre- 
quently headed  with  the  name 
(cp.  Kelly's  "Notices  of  Leices- 
ter," pp.'ll9,  207,  227);  IV.  ii. 
112. 
.Empty,  hungry,  famished;  III. 
i.  248. 

Entreat,  treat;  II.  iv.  81. 

Envious,  spiteful;  II.  iv.  12;  II. 
iv.  35;  "e.  load,"  load  of  mal- 
ice; III.  i.  157. 

Exorcisms,  chamns  for  raising 
spirits;  I.  iv.  5. 

68 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


Expedient,  expeditious;  III.  i. 
298. 

Fact,  deed;  I.  iii.  178. 

P'ain  of,  glad  to,  fond  of;  II.  i. 
8. 

False-heart,  false-hearted;  V.  i. 
143. 

Familiar,  familiar  spirit;  IV.  vii. 
114. 

Favor,  lenity;  IV.  vii.  T2. 

Fearful,  full  of  fear.  III.  i. 
331;  timorous,  IV.  iv.  2;  cow- 
ardly, IV.  viii.  46. 

Fee-simple,  lands  held  in  fee- 
simple;  IV.  X.  28. 

Fell-lurking,  lurking  to  do  mis- 
chief; V.  i.  146. 

Felon,   (?)  felony;  III.  i.  132. 

Fence,  skill  in  fencing;  II.  i. 
53. 

Fifteens,  fifteenths;  IV.  vii.  24. 

Fift?.e.vth,  the  fifteenth  part  of 
all  the  personal  property  of  a 
subject;  I.  i.  133. 

Fl.\vv,  sudden  burst  of  wind, 
gust;  III.  i.  354. 

Flower-de-luce,  the  emblem  of 
France  (Ff.  1,  2,  "Fleure-de- 
Luce";  Ff.  3,  4,  "Floure-de- 
Luce");  V.  i.  11. 

Fond,  foolish;  III.  i.  36. 

Foot-cloth,  a  kind  of  housing 
for  a  horse,  so  long  that  it 
nearly  swept  the  ground;  IV. 
i.  54. 

For,  because,  II.  iii.  9;  on  ac- 
count of  (Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "with")', 
IV.  vii.  90. 

Force  perixjrce,  by  very  force; 
I.  i.  258. 

Forsooth,     certainly,     in    truth; 
used    contemptuously;    III.    ii. 
163. 
Forth,    forth    from    (Ff.    3,    4, 
'•)>om")\  III.  ii.  89. 
Shk-1-27  1 


Forthcoming,  in  custody;  11.  i. 
179. 

Fretful,  gnawing;  III.  ii.  403. 

From,  away  from;  III.  ii.  401. 

P'urniture,  equipment;  I.  iii.  174. 

Furred  pack,  a  kind  of  knapsack 
or  wallet  made  of  skin  with  the 
hair  outwards;   IV.  ii.  52. 

Gait,  walking  (Ff.,  "gate")'.  III. 

i.  373. 
Gallowglasses,  heavy-armed  foot 

soldiers    of    Ireland    and    the 

Western  Isles;  IV.  ix.  26. 
Gather    head,    assemble    forces; 

IV.  V.  10. 
Gear,     affair,     business     (Ff., 

"geer"),  I.  iv.  17;  matter.  III. 

i.  91. 
George,   badge  of  the  Order  of 

the  Garter;  IV.  i.  29. 
Ghost,  corpse;  III.  ii.  161. 
Gird,    invest     (Ff.     and    Qq., 

"girt");  I.  i.  65. 
Gnarling,  snarling;  III.  i.  192. 
Go;  "let  him  g.,"  t.  e.  let  him  pass 

from  your  thoughts;  II.  iii.  47. 
Go  ABOUT,  attempt;  II.  i.  146. 
Gobbets,  mouthfuls;  IV.  i.  85. 
Gone  out;   "had   not   gone  out," 

t.    e.    "would    not    have    taken 

flight  at  the  game";  II.  i.  4. 
Got,  secured;  V.  iii.  20. 
Graceless,  impious;  IV.  iv.  38. 
Graft,  grafted;  III.  ii.  214. 
Groat,   a   small    piece   of   money 

worth  four  pence;   III.  i.   113. 

Hale,  drag  forcibly;  IV.  i.  131. 
Half-faced   sun,   the   device   on 

the  standard   of  Edward   III; 

(Vaughan,   "pale-faced") ;    IV. 

i.  98. 
Hammering,  pondering;  I.  ii.  ^1. 
Hamper,  fetter,  entangle;  I.  ill. 

150. 

69 


Glossary 


THE  SECOND  PART  OF 


Hap,  fortune;  III.  i.  314. 

Haply,  perchance,  perhaps;  III. 
i.  240. 

Happily,  haply,  perhaps  (Ff.,  2, 
3,  4,  "haphj")  ;   HI.  i.  306. 

Habdly,  with  difficulty ;  with  play 
upon  hardly,  scarcely,  I.  75 
(Theobald,  "hardily");  I.  iv. 
74. 

Hant:,  possess;  V.  iii.  20. 

Have  at  him,  I  shall  hit  at  him; 
IV.  ii.  136. 

Hea\'y,  sad,  sorrowful;  III.  ii. 
306. 

Hempen  caudle,  a  slang  phrase 
for  hanging  ("caudle,"  a  com- 
forting drink)  ;  IV.  vii.  95. 

Henry,  trisyllabic;  III.  ii.  131. 

Here,  at  this  point,  IV.  iv.  76; 
(Heath,  "hence";  Hudson, 
Walker,  "there")-,  II.  iv.  79. 

Hinds,  boors,  peasants;  III.  ii. 
271;  IV.  ii.  138. 

HoisE,  hoist,  heave  away  (Ff., 
"hoyse";  Qq.,  "heaue";  Theo- 
bald, "hoist") ;  I.  i.  169. 

Horse,  horse's  (Ff.,  3, 4,  "horses"; 
B.owe  reads,  "horse's";  Capell, 
"horse'  ")  ;  IV.  iii.  14. 

Hose  and  doublets;  "in  their  h. 
and  d.,"  i.  e.  without  a  cloak; 
IV.  vii.  59. 

Household,  family  (Malone's 
correction  (from  Qq.)  of  F.  1, 
"housed";  Ff.  2,  3,  4, 
"houses") ;  V.  i.  201. 

Housekeeping,  keeping  open 
house,  hospitality;  I.  i.  191. 


In,  into;  III.  ii.  287. 

In  capite,  a  law  term,  signifying 
a  tenure  of  the  sovereign  im- 
mediately as  feudal  lord;  used 
quibbingly;  IV.  vii.  133. 

Inch;  "at  an  i.,"  in  the  nick  of 
time;  I.  iv.  45. 

Indigested,  formless,  shapeless; 
V.  i.  157. 

Infortunate,  unfortunate;  (Ff. 
3,  4,  "unfortunate");  IV.  ix. 
18. 

Injurious,  insolent;  I.  iv.  51. 

Instance,  proof;  III.  ii.  159. 

Invitis  nubibus,  in  spite  of  the 
clouds  {vide  "half-fated  sun")\ 
IV.  i.  99. 

Ibis,  goddess  of  the  rainbow  and 
messenger  of  Juno;  here,  mes- 
senger; III.  ii.  407. 

Item,  originally,  likewise,  used  in 
enumerating;  I.  i.  50. 

Jaded,  no  better  than  a  jade; 
(Capell,  from  Qq.,  "jady")\ 
IV.  i.  52. 

Jades,  term  of  contempt  or  pity 
for  a  maltreated  or  worthless 
horse;  applied  to  the  dragons 
of  Night's  chariot;  IV.  i.  3. 

Jar,  discord;  IV.  viii.  43. 

Joy,  enjoy;  III.  ii.  365. 

Ken,  descry,  discern;  III.  ii.  101. 
Kennel,  gutter;  IV.  i.  71. 
Kernes,    Irish    soldiers;    III.    i. 

310. 
Killingworth,  an  old   form  of 

Kenilworth;  IV.  iv.  39. 


Ill-nurtured,  ill-bred  (F.  4,  "ill- 

natur'd") ;  I.  ii.  42. 
Images   (?)   dissyllabic   (Walker,      Laid,  beset,  laid  with  traps;  IV. 

"image'")',  I.  iii.  65.  x.  4. 

Imprimis,     firstly,     in    the    first       Laugh,  smile;  "the  world  may  1. 

place;  I.  i.  43.  again,"  i.  e.  fortune  may  smile 

Impugns,  opposes;  III.  i.  281.  on  me  again;  II.  iv.  82. 

170 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


Lay,    stake,    wager     (Ff.    3,    4, 

"day")  ;  V.  ii.  '27. 
Leave,    leave    off,    desist;    IL    i. 

183;  III.  ii.  333. 
Lesser,  smaller;  IV.  x.  50. 
Lewdly,  wickedly;  II.  i.  168. 
Liefest,  dearest;  III.  i.  164, 
I^TGHT,  alight,  descend;   I.  iii.  93. 
Like;  "an  it  1.,"  if  it  please;  II. 

i.  9. 
Limed,    smeared   with   bird-lime; 

I.  iii.  91. 
Lime-twigs,   twigs   smeared   with 

lime    for   catching    birds;    III. 

iii.  16. 
Listen    after,    gain    information 

about;  I.  iii.  154. 
IjIved,  would  live;  III.  ii.  399. 
Lizards'   stings,   alluding   to   the 

old    belief    that    lizards    have 

stings,    which    they    have    not; 

III.  ii.  325. 
Loather,  more  unwilling;  III.  ii. 

355. 
Lodged,     beat     down;     technical 

term   for  the  beating  down  of 

grain   by  violent  weather;   III. 

ii.  176.  " 
London-stone,  an   ancient  land- 
mark, still  carefully  preserved 

in  Cannon  Street,  London;  IV. 

vi.  2. 
LoBDiNGS,  lords;  I.  i.  145. 

Madding,  growing  mad  with  love; 
III.  ii.  117. 

Mail'd  trp  IN  SHAME,  "wvappcd 
up  in  disgrace";  alluding  to 
the  sheet  of  penance  (John- 
son) ;  II.  iv.  31. 

Main,  chief  point;  used  with 
play  upon  "Maine"  and  "main 
force";  I.  i.  i?09. 

Mained,  maimed  (F.  4, 
"maim'd")',   IV.  U.  172. 

Make,  draw  up;  IV.  ii.  105. 


Make  shift;  contrive;  I\'.  viii. 
35. 

Mandrake,  "a  plant  tiic  root  of 
which  was  supjiosed  to  re- 
semble tlie  human  figure;  it 
was  said  to  cause  madness  and 
even  death  when  torn  from  the 
ground";  III.  ii.  310, 

Mass,  by  the  mass;  an  assevera- 
tion; II.  i.  101. 

Maitss,  checkmates,  confounds, 
disables;  III.  i.  265. 

Mechanical,  mechanic;  I.  iii. 
199. 

Meetest,  most  suitable;  I.  iii.  165. 

Mercy;  "I  cry  you  m.,"  I  beg 
your  pardon;  I.  iii.  144. 

M  I  c  K  L  E  ,  much,  great  ( F.  2, 
"milckie";  Ff.  3,  4,  "milky"); 
V.  i.  174. 

Middest,  midst;  (F.  4,  "midst"); 
IV.  viii.  G6. 

Minion,  pert,  saucy  person;  I.  iii. 
143. 

Minister,  instrument;  III.  i.  355. 

Miscarry,  perish;  IV,  viii.  51. 

Misdoubt,  diffidence;   Til.  i.   332. 

Monuments,  memorials,  memen- 
tos; III.  ii.  342. 

MoRTSco,  morris-dancer;  III.  i. 
365. 

Mortal,  deadly,  fatal;  III.  ii. 
263. 

MouNSiEUH,  Monsieur;  I"V.  vii.  31. 

Mournful,  mourning,  expressing 
sorrow;  III.  i.  226. 

Muse,  wonder;  III.  i.  1. 

Naughty,  bad,  wicked;  II.  i.  168. 
Next,    "the    n.,"    what    follows; 

III.  i.  383. 
Niciir,  well-nigh,  nearly;   III.   ii. 

82. 
Nominate,  name;  II.  i.  130. 
Notice,     information      (conj. 

"note");  III.  i.  166. 


171 


Glossary 


THE  SECOND  PART  OF 


Numbers,  "factious  n.,"  bands  of 
factious  retainers;  II.  i.  40. 

Obligations,    contracts;    IV.    ii. 
100. 

Obsequies,  shows  of  love;  III.  ii. 
146. 

O'erweening,  overbearing,  pre- 
sumptuous; V.  i.  151. 

OauTTixG,  leaving  unregarded; 
III.  ii.  382. 

Opposites,  adversaries;  V.  iii.  22. 

Order,  "take  o.,"  make  arrange- 
ments, III.  i.  320;  manner, 
111.  ii.  129. 

Out,  given  out,  i.  e.  given  up 
(Walker,  "over";  Cartwright, 
"up")',  IV.  viii.  28. 

Over-blown,  blown  over,  dis- 
pelled; I.  iii.  157. 

Packing,  "send  me  p.,"  send  me 

away;  III.  i.  342. 
Pageant  (trisyllabic) ;  I.  ii.  67. 
Palmer's,  pilgrim's;  V.  i.  97. 
Palsy,  paralysis;  IV.  vii.  98. 
Paly,  pale;  III.  ii.  141. 
Part,  party;  V.  ii.  35. 
Particularities,  single  or  private 
respects   (opposed  to  "general" 
in  previous  line);  V.  ii.  44. 
Pass,  care,  regard;  IV.  ii.  144. 
Period,  end,  stop;  III.  i.  149. 
Perish,  cause  to  perisli;  III.  ii. 

100. 
Pinnace,  a  small  two-masted  ves- 
sel; iV.  i.  9. 
Pitch,  the  height  to  which  a  fal- 
con soars;  II.  i.  6. 
Plainness,    frankness,   sincerity; 

I.  i,  101. 
Plot,  plot  of  ground,  spot;  II.  ii. 

60. 
Pointing-stock,     object     to     be 
pointed  at,  butt;  II.  iv.  46 


Pole,   pronounced  Poole;   IV.  i. 

70. 
Porpentine,    porcupine;     (Rowe 

"l}orcupine") ;  III.  i-  363. 
Port,  deportment,  carriage;   IV. 

i.   19. 
Posted  over,  slurred  over;  III.  i. 

255. 
Pot;  "three-hooped  p.,"  a  wooden 
drinking-vessel     bound     with 
hoops;  IV.  ii.  72. 
Power,  armed  force;  IV.  iv.  40. 
Practice,  plotting;  III.  ii.  22. 
Practiced,  plotted;  II.  i.  172. 
Prejiised,  sent   before   the  time; 
(Delius,  "promised") ;  V.  ii.  41. 
'Prentice,  apprentice;  I.  iii.  203. 
Presence,     Cade's     blunder     for 

"presents";  IV.  vii.  33. 
Present,  immediate;  V.  iii.  25. 
Presently-,     immediately;     1.     i. 

171;  III.  ii.  18. 
Pretty'-vaulting,  bounding  in  a 
pleasant  manner;   (Ff.  "pretty 
vaulting");  III.  ii.  94. 
Priest,    father-confessor;    III.   i. 

272. 
Private,  retired;  II.  ii.  60. 
Procurator,  substitute,  proxy;  I. 

i.  3. 
Proo^;  "his  coat  is  of  p.,"  used 
with    a    quibble    on    the    two 
senses  of  "proof,"   (1)   able  to 
resist,     (2)     well    worn,    long 
worn;  IV.  ii.  68. 
Proper,  handsome;  IV.  ii.  107. 
Proportion,  shape,   form;    I.   iii. 

59. 
Puissant    (dissyllabic);    IV.    ix. 

25. 
Pursuivant,    a    lower    rank    of 
herald,    a   state   messenger;   I. 
iii.  40. 
Puttock's,  kite's;  III.  ii.  191. 


Quaint,  fine;  III.  ii.  274. 


172 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


QuiixETs,  subtleties,  sly  tricks  in 

argument;   III,  i.  i?61. 
QuinE,  choir;  I.  iii.  91. 
Quitting,  freeing;  III.  ii.  218. 

Rack'd,  harrassed   by  exactions; 

I.  iii.  133. 

Ragged,  ruirgecl,  rougli;  III.  ii. 
98. 

Rascal,  rascally;  II.  iv.  47. 

Raught,  having  been  gained; 
(lit.  "reached";  Capell, 
"wrenched";     others,="reft") ; 

II.  iii.  43. 

Razing,  erasing,  blotting  out;  I. 
i.  101. 

Rear,  raise;  III.  ii.  34. 

Reave,  deprive;  V.  i.  187. 

Reij:kt,  yield,  comply;  (Collier 
MS.,  "repent")  ;  iv'  viii.  12. 

Remorse,  pity,  compassion;  IV. 
vii.   111. 

Remorseful,  compassionate;  IV. 
i.  1. 

Repairing;  "of  such  r.  nature," 
t".  e.  so  able  to  recover  from  de- 
feat; V.  iii.  22. 

Repeal,  recall  from  banishment; 

III.  ii.  349. 

Repro\'e,    disprove,    refute;    III. 

i.  40. 
Reputing  of,  boasting  of ;  (Rowe, 

"bif  repeatiu;/"):  HI.  i.  48. 
Respecting,   considering;    III.    i. 

24. 
Revenues;  I.  iii.  85. 
Reverent,  humble;  III.  i.  34. 
Revolt,  turn  back    (Anon.  conj. 

"repent") ;  IV.  ii.  141. 
Right    now,   just    now;    III.    ii. 

40. 
Roast,     "rule     the     r.,"     Pope's 

emendation  of  Ff.  "rost,"  Qq. 

"roast";  Grant  White,  "roost"; 

accortling  to   some   the   phrase 

originally   meant   "to   rule  the 


roost,"  i.  e.  the  "hen- roost";  I. 

i.  109. 
Rude,    rough,    ill-mannered;    III. 

ii.   135. 
Rudeh,  more  unrefined;  I.  i.  30. 

Sack,  generic  name  for  Spanish 
and   Canary  wine;    II.   iii.  60. 

Sallet,  salad;  IV.  x.  9;  a  kind 
of  helmet,  with  a  play  upon  the 
two  senses  of  the  word;  IV.  x. 
13. 

Sancta  Majestas,  sacred  maj- 
esty; (Pope,  "majesty";  Capell, 
from  Qq.,  "santa  maestd") ;  V. 
i.  5. 

Savoy,  tlie  Palace  of  the  Duke  of 
Lancaster;  destroyed  by  the 
rebels  under  Wat  Tyler,  and 
not  rebuilt  till  the.  reign  of 
Henry  VII;  IV.  vii.  2. 

Saws,  maxims,  moral  sayings;  I. 
iii.  63. 

Say,  a  kind  of  satin;  IV.  vii.  27. 

Scathe,  injury;  II.  iv.  62. 

Score,  a  notch  made  on  a  tally; 
IV.  vii.  40. 

Seemetii;  "me  s.,"  it  seems  to 
me;  ill.  i.  23. 

Shearman,  one  who  uses  the 
tailor's  shears;  IV.  ii.  149. 

Shrewd,  bad,  evil;  II.  iii.  41. 

SiciL,  Sicily;  I.  i.  6. 

Silent,  "the  s.  of  the  night" 
(Collier  MS.,  from  Qq.,  "si- 
lence") ;  I.  iv.  19. 

Silly,  poor  (used  as  a  term  of 
pity,  not  of  contempt);  I.  i. 
225. 

Since,  when;  III.  i.  9. 

Sir,  a  common  title  of  priests;  I. 
ii.  C8. 

Skills,  matters;  III.  i.  281. 

Slough,  the  skin  of  a  snake;  III. 
i.  229. 

Smart,  painful;  III.  ii.  335. 


17S 


Glossary 


THE   SECOND   PART   OF 


Smooth,  bland,  insinuative;   III. 

i.  65. 
Smoothing,  flattering;   I.   i.   156. 
Smooth'st,  flatterest;  II.  i.  22. 
So,  if  only;  V.  1.  53. 
Soft,  hush,  stop;  II.  iv.  15. 
Sometime,  sometimes;  II.  iv.  42. 
SopHisTER,  captious  reasoner;  V. 

i.  191. 
Sort,   comjiany,   set;    II.   i.   167; 

III.   ii.  277. 
Sort,  adapt,  make  coraformable; 

II.  iv.  68;  let  it  fall  out;  I.  ii. 
107. 

Soun,  bitter;  III.  ii.  301. 

Span-counter,  a  game  "in  which 
one  player  throws  a  counter, 
which  the  other  wins,  if  he  can 
throw  another  to  hit  it,  or  lie 
within  a  span  of  it"  (Nares) ; 
l\.  ii.  174. 

Spleenful,  hot,  eager;  III.  ii. 
128. 

Splitting,  wont  to  split  the  sides 
of  vessels;  III.  ii.  97. 

Spoil,  despoil,  plunder;  IV.  iv. 
53. 

Sprays,  shoots,  twigs;  II.  iii.  45. 

Starved,    benumbed    with    cold; 

III.  i.  343. 

State,  estate;  IV.  x.  25. 

Stays,  ceases,  ends;  II.  iv.  76. 

Stigmatic,  one  branded  by  na- 
ture with  deformity;  V.  i.  215. 

Still,  continually;   III.  i.   239. 

Stomachs,  angry  tempers;  II.  i. 
56. 

Strait,  strict;  (F.  4,  "strange") ; 
III.  ii.  258. 

Straiter,  more  severely.^  III.  ii. 
20. 

Stray,  vagrant;  IV.  x.  28. 

Strength,  army;  III.  i.  380. 

Style;  "large  style";  high-sound- 
ing list  of  titles;  I.  i.  111. 


Subornation,   abetting,    inciting; 

III.  i.  45. 

Subscribe,  yield  the  point;  III.  i. 

38. 
Suddenly,  immediately,  at  once; 

II.  ii.  67. 
Suffer'd,    allowed    to    have    his 

way;  V.  i.  153. 
Sufficeth,  it  sufficeth;  IV.  x.  25. 
Suffocate,    suffocated     (with    a 

quibble  upon  "Sufolk") ;  I.  i. 

124. 
Suspect,    suspicion;     (Ff.    "sus- 

pence";      Rowe,      "suspicion"; 

Mai  one      (Steevens),     "sus- 
pects") ;  III.  i.  140. 
Swallowing;    "for    s.,"   "that   it 

may  not  swallow,"    (Ff.   3,  4, 

"swallowing  up") ;  IV.  i.  74. 
SwoRDER,  gladiator;  IV.  i.  135. 
Sylla;  Sulla,  the  rival  of  Marius; 

IV.  i.  84. 

Tainture,  defilement;  II.  i.  188. 
Take  my  death,  take  it  upon  my 

death;  an  oath;  II.  iii.  91. 
Tally,  a  stick  on  which  notches 

or  scores  were  cut  to  keep  ac- 
counts by;  IV.  vii.  39. 
Temper,    moisten,    wet;    III.    i. 

311. 
Tend,    attend,   wait   on;    III.   ii. 

304. 
Tender,    have    care    for;    III.   i. 

277. 
That,   would  that,   I.  iv.  31;   SO 

that.  III.  i.  12. 
Thorough,  through;  IV.  i.  87. 
Threatest,   threatenest;    (Ff.   3, 

4,  "threat en' St") ;  I.  iv.  51. 
Tickle,    ticklish,    unstable;    I.    i. 

216. 
Tickled,  vexed,  irritated;   I.  iii. 

155. 
Timeless,  untimely;  III.  ii.  187. 


174 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


TiMELY-PABTED,     liaving     died     a 

natural  death;  III.  ii.  161. 
To,  compared  to;  III.  i.  Gi. 
TowAUus,    monosyllabic;    III.    11. 

90. 
TowKR,  soar,  fly  high;  II.  i.  10. 
Treasury,  treasure;  I.  ill.  136. 
Thencheh,  plate;  IV.  i.  57. 
Trow'st,  thinkest;  II.  iv.  38. 
Tully,  Cicero;  IV.  i.  136. 
TuMiJLE   DOWN,  make  to  fall;  I. 

ii.  48. 
Twit,  twitted;  III.  i.  178. 
Two-HANu  SWORD,  sword  wielded 

with  two  hands;  II.  i.  46. 

Uncivil,  ill-mannered,  rude;  III. 

i.  310. 
Uncvrable,  incurable   (Ff.  3,  4, 

"incurable");  III.   i.  286. 
Ukeatii,  not  easily;  II.  iv.  8. 
Unmeet,  unsuitable;  I.  iii.  169. 
Untutor'd,  untaught,  rude;  III. 

ii.  213. 

Vantages,  advantages;  I.  i.  131. 

Verge,  compass,  circle;  I.  iv.  25. 

ViLLiAGO,  base  coward;  (Theo- 
bald reads  "Villageois";  Capell, 
"Viliaco";  a  corruption  of 
Italian  Viffliacco,  rascal;  IV. 
viii.  50. 

Void,  devoid;  IV.  vii.  71. 

Voiding  lobby,  ante-roora,  wait- 
ing room;  IV.  i.  61. 

Waft,  carry,  bear;  IV.  i.  114. 
Walter,     pronounced     "water"; 

IV.  i.  31. 
Waning,    decline,     loss     (Rowe, 

"tvaining";     Ff.,     "warning")  \ 

IV.  X.  23. 


Ward,  custody,  confinement;    V. 

i.  112. 
Well  given,  well-disposed;    III. 

i.  72. 
What,   who;    III.    i.    107;   what- 
ever; III.  i.  132. 
Where,  whereas;  III.  ii.  394. 
Whether,     monosyllal)ic;      (Ff. 

"where");  III.  ii.  265. 
White  Hart,  proljably  a  tavern 

in     Southwark;     used     with    a 

quil)ble   on    whitf-heart  =z  covv- 
rdly     (Ff.    1,    2,    3,    "ichiie- 

hearl") ;  IV.  viii.  26. 
Who,  whom;  III.  ii.  127;  he  who; 

IV.  viii.  15. 
Whom,  which;  III.  ii.  345. 
Wink,  shut  your  eyes;  II.  i.  105. 
Witch,  bewitch   (Theobald's  cor- 
rection of  Ff.,  "watch");   III. 

ii.  116. 
With;   "I  am  with  you,"   I'll  be 

there,  I  understand;  II.  i.  49. 
Woe,  woful;  "be  w.  for  me,"  be 

sorrowful,  feel  sorrow,  for  me; 

III.  ii.  73. 
Worm,    snake,    serpent;    III.    ii. 

263. 
Worn,  eifaced  from  memory;  II. 

iv.  69. 
Worthy,  worthy  of;  III.  i.  68. 
Would,  requires,  desires;  II.  iii. 

21. 
Wreck,  ruin   (Ff.,  "wrack");  I. 

iii.  129. 
Wrest,  misinterpret;   III.  i.   186. 
Wrested,  took  wrongfully;  III.  i. 

112. 

Y-clad,  clad;  I.  i.  33. 

Yet,  still,  even  then;  II.  iv.  65. 


1T5 


STUDY  QUESTIONS 


1.  When  was  the  Second  Part  of  Henry  the  Sixth  first 
issued, — according  to  Hudson, — with  that  title,  and  in  its 
present  state?  What  is  the  title  page  of  an  earlier  edition 
of  which  the  later  one  is  but  an  enlargement? 

S.  What  was  the  substance  of  Greene's  attack  upon 
Shakespeare  in  his  pamphlet?  What  was  the  apology  and 
reply  that  Chettle  made  to  the  ill-feeling  it  aroused? 

3.  In  what  several  passages  throughout  is  Margaret's 
contempt  and  impatience  at  the  weakness  of  her  husband 
most  apparent? 

4.  Outline  the  proceedings  of  the  Second  Part  as  they 
are  developed  consistently  from  the  principles  of  action  in 
the  first.  Trace  with  their  counteraction  and  forecast,  the 
scenes  that  carry  these  crescendo  and  descrescendo  move- 
ments of  the  action  throughout  Parts  I  and  II. 

5.  What  constitutes  the  first  practicable  breach  between 
the  houses  of  York  and  Lancaster? 

6.  Of  what  early  presage  in  the  dramatic  action  is  the 
battle  of  St.  Albans  the  first  ripe  fulfilment? 

7.  In  what  respects  is  Part  II  an  advance  upon  Part  I? 
Characterize  the  differences  in  detail.  What  is  one  prob- 
able reason  for  this  superiorit}^'' 

8.  The  first  part  rcj^rescnts  the  introductory  process, 
and  deals  with  the  initial  spur  of  the  action ;  what  does  the 
second  part  represent  in  its  process? 

9.  What  passages  throughout  this  part  indicate  Henry's 
feeling  towards  Margaret?  Describe  the  impression  they 
make. 

10.  In    the    conduct    of   what    important   episodes    does 

176 


KING   HENRY   VI  Study  Questions 

Duke  Humphrey   show  himself  as  negative  in   actual   ef- 
fectiveness as  Henry  himself? 

11.  Does  history  entirely  justify  the  Shakespearean 
handling  of  the  character  of  York? 

12.  What  is  tlic  dramatic  effect  of  Shakespeare's  treat- 
ment of  Margaret's  character? 

13.  Who  were  the  most  powerful  nobles  in  the  factions 
of  York  and  Lancaster,  respectively? 

14.  Compare  Richard  Plantagenet's  fitness  for  ruling 
with  that  of  Henry. 

ACT    I 

15.  WHiat  is  the  general  action  of  the  first  act?  W^hat 
passages  in  it  foreshadow  incidents  in  Act  II? 

16.  In  what  passages  does  the  disinterested  spirit  of 
Warwick  and  Salisbury  show  itself  for  the  good  of  Eng- 
land? 

IT.  To  what  family  did  the  Earl  of  Salisbury  belong, 
and  with  what  one  did  he  connect  himself? 

18.  W^hat  constituted  just  causes  for  the  discontent  with 
Henry's  alliance  with  Margaret  of  Anjou? 

19.  In  what  passages  in  scene  i  is  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester's  popularity  with  the  common  people  specifically 
referred  to?  In  what  ones,  as  contrasted  with  Duke 
Humphrey's  demeanor,  is  that  of  the  Cardinal  set  forth 
as  unbridled? 

20.  B}'  what  tie  was  York  connected  with  the  Earl  of 
Salisbury?  WHiat  is  the  discrepancy  in  point  of  time  be- 
tween the  historic  fact  of  York's  French  regency,  and  the 
mention  of  it  in  the  play  in  scene  i? 

21.  To  what  situation  does  York  refer  in  lines  215,  216, 
scene  i?  Explain  his  classical  allusion  to  "the  fatal  brand 
Althjea  burn'd." 

22.  What  passage  in  scene  ii  illustrates  the  people's 
realization  that  Suffolk  was  their  enemy? 

23.  In  what  passage  does  Suffolk  voice  his  conscious- 
ness that  the  power  of  S;ilisbury  and  Warwick  is 
mast  to  be  dreaded?     Before  the  cruelty  and  manifest  un- 

177 


study  Questions  THE    SECOND    PART    OF 

truth  of  the  charges  against  Gloucester  by  the  opposing 
faction  of  nobles, — and  especially  those  charges  made  by 
Suffolk,  known  as  the  latter  was  for  being  a  main  cause  of 
England's  latest  grievance, — what  can  be  said  of  the  atti- 
tude of  the  King? 

24.  What  was  the  issue  of  the  deadly  feud  between 
York  and  Somerset? 

ACT  n 

S5.  In  scene  i  what  is  the  undercurrent  of  the  light 
talk,  at  first  referring  to  the  sport  apparently,  but  con- 
tinually, reverting  figuratively  to  other  matters?  What 
is  the  dramatic  value  of  this  in  the  general  movement? 

26.  What  is  a  special  interest  of  the  Simpcox  passage, 
as  likewise  of  the  passages  in  Act  I,  scene  iii,  and  Act 
II,  scene  iii,  descriptive  of  the  armorers'  petition  and 
duel?  What  and  where  are  the  stories  upon  which  these 
passages  are  founded? 

27.  To  what  does  Gloucester  refer  in  lines  160,  161? 

28.  What  is  York's  title  to  the  crown  of  England  ? 

29.  Describe  the  customs  of  dealing  with  sorcerers  and 
witches,  so-called,  in  this  period,  as  set  forth  in  Act  II, 
scene  iii. 

30.  What  was  the  dramatic  reason  for  setting  the  crime 
and  punishment  of  P^leanor  in  close  connection  with 
Humphrey's  downfall? 

31.  Is  the  historic  account  of  this  circumstance  substan- 
tiall}'  in  keeping  with  the  episode  in  the  play? 

32.  What  passage  in  scene  ii  sets  forth  the  shameless 
vindictiveness  of  Margaret  in  the  pursuit  of  her  ends? 

33.  To  what  custom  does  Eleanor  refer  in  line  31,  scene 
iv? 

34.  By  what  passage  in  scene  iv  does  Gloucester  betray 
his  misguided  spirit  of  trust  in  others'  just  dealing? 


178 


KING   HENRY   VI  Study  Questions 

ACT    HI 

35.  What  saying  from  Ilolinshed  voices  just  such  a 
situation  as  that  into  which  the  downfall  of  Gloucester 
eventually  brings  the  king? 

36.  What  passage  in  scene  i  particularly  demonstrates 
Henry's  weakness  in  the  hands  of  his  nobles.'' 

37.  What  confusion  in  the  sequence  of  incidents  occurs 
in  line  329,  scene  i? 

38.  Is  there  any  proof  that  York  actually  instigated  the 
Cade  rebellion?  If  not  why  is  he  accused  in  the  play  of 
doing  so? 

39.  How  do  the  current  reports  and  records  of  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester's  death  tally  with  or  vary  from  that  explana- 
tion of  it  used  in  the  play? 

40.  How  does  the  Chronicle  eulogize  Gloucester's  char- 
acter? What  is  the  Chronicle  account  of  the  popular 
feeling  toward  Suffolk  following  Duke  Humphrey's  death? 

41.  To  what  Folk-oVIyth  does  Suffolk  refer  in  speaking 
of  the  "mandrake's  groan"? 

42.  What  is  the  distinctive  dramatic  quality  in  the  part- 
ing scene  between  Suffolk  and  the  Queen? 

43.  What  do  the  Chronicles  say  of  the  Cardinal? 

44.  What  is  Shakespeare's  characteristic  treatment  of 
the  death  of  the  guilty? 

ACT  rv 

45.  What  is  the  most  important  episode  in  this  act? 
What  is  its  dramatic  relation  to  the  trend  of  the  play? 

46.  What  is  the  meaning  of  "my  George"  in  line  29, 
scene  i? 

47.  What  is  the  cause  of  Suffolk's  dismay  at  Walter 
Whitmore's  mention  of  his  name? 

48.  Was  Suffolk  of  a  degree  to  warrant  his  boast  of  his 
blood? 

49.  What  dramatic  purpose  does  the  captain  serve  by 
his  tirade  against  Suffolk  in  scene  i? 

50.  What  is  the  Chronicle  account  of  Suffolk's  end? 

179 


study  Questions  KING   HENRY   VI 

51.  What  previous  communistic  uprising  does  Shake- 
speare utiHze  in  combination  with  the  actual  Cade  episode 
and  for  what  special  dramatic  effect? 

52.  What  passage  has  the  poet  taken  almost  verbatim 
from  Holinshed's  Chronicle  and  put  in  the  mouths  of  Cade 
and  his  followers?  W'hat  outrages  of  the  previous  insur- 
rection are  recalled  in  the  utilization  in  this  Cade  episode 
of  denunciation  of  "ink  horn  men,"  lawyers,  and  all  learned 
people? 

53.  What  probably  was  the  true  nature  of  the  Cade  Re- 
bellion? 

54.  How  does  the  first  part  of  scene  x  operate  as  a  re- 
lief or  dramatic  pause? 

ACT    V 

55.  What   is  the   dramatic   quality   of  York's   opening 

speech  ? 

56.  What  is  the  historic  account  of  York's  return  from 
Ireland,  his  withdrawal  into  Wales,  and  the  several  events 
of  this  part  of  the  episode? 

57.  W^hat  was  the  original  Bedlam  to  which  Clifford  re- 
fers in  scene  i? 

58.  For  what  in  the  play's  action  does  the  circumstance 
of  Clifford's  death  at  York's  hands  serve  to  prepare  the 
wa}'  ? 

59.  Compare  the  rhapsodic  pathos  of  young  Clifford's 
lament  over  his  father's  body,  with  that  of  Talbot's  over  his 
dead  son,  in  Part  I.  Explain  the  mythological  allusions 
in  young  Clifford's  final  lines. 

60.  To  what  has  Richard  reference  in  his  lines  over 
Somerset's  dead  body? 


180 


THE  THIRD  PART  OF 
KING  HENRY  VI 


All  the  unsigned  footnotes  in  this  volume  are  by  the 
writer  of  the  article  to  which  they  are  appended.  The  in- 
terpretation of  the  initials  signed  to  the  others  is:  I.  G. 
:=  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. ;  H.  N.  H.^  Henry  Norman 
Hudson,  A.M.;  C.  H.  H.=  C.  H.  Herford,  Litt.D. 


INTEODUCTION 

By  Henry  Norman  Hudson,  A.M. 

The  Third  Part  of  King  Henry  the  Sixth'  reswrn^s,  the 
course  of  histor}^  just  where  it  paused  at  the  close  of  the 
preceding  play,  and  carries  it  on  from  the  first  battle  of 
St.  Albans,  May,  1455,  till  the  death  of  King  Henry,  which 
took  place  in  May,  1471.     And  the  connection  of  this  play 
with  the  foregoing  is  much  the  same  as  that  between  the 
First  Fart  and  the  Second,  there  being  no  apparent  reason 
why  the  Third  should  begin  where   it  does,  but  that  the 
Second  ended  there.     The  parliamentary  doings,  which  re- 
sulted in  a  compromise  of  the  two  factions,  are  here  set  in 
immediate  juxtaposition  with  the  first  battle  of  St.  Albans, 
whereas  in  fact  they  were  separated  by  an  interval  of  more 
than  five  years.      Nevertheless,  the  arrangement  is  a  very 
judicious  one;  for  that  interval  was  marked  by  little  else 
than  similar  scenes  of  slaughter^  which  had  no  decisive  ef- 
fect on  the  relative  condition  of  parties ;  so  that  the  rep- 
resenting of  them  would  but  have  encumbered  the  drama 
with  details  without  helping  on  the  purpose  of  the  work. 
Not  so,  however,  with  the  battle  of  Wakefield,  which  fol- 
lowed hard  upon  those  doings  in  parliament ;  for  this  bat- 
tle, besides  that  it  yielded  matter  of  peculiar  dramatic  inter- 
est in  itself,  had  the  effect  of  kindling  that  inexpressible 
rage  and  fury  of  madness,  which  it  took  such  rivers  of 
blood  to  slake.     For  historians  note  that  from  this  time 
forward  the  war  was  conducted  with  the  fiercest   rancor 
and    exasperation,    each    faction    seeming    more    intent   to 
butcher   than    to    subdue   the   other.     The    cause   of   this 
demoniacal  enthusiasm  could  not  well  be  better  presented 
than  it  is  in  the  wanton  and  remorseless  savagery  displayed 

vii 


Introduction  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

at  the  battle  in  question.  And  the  effect  is  answerably  told 
in  the  next  battle  represented,  where  the  varying  fortune 
and  long-doubtful  issue  served  but  to  multiply  and  deepen 
the  horrors  of  the  tragedy.  Even  the  pauses  of  the  fight 
are  but  occupied  in  blowing  hotter  the  passion  and  bracing 
firmer  the  purpose  of  the  combatants ;  while  the  reflection 
of  the  King,  whose  gentle  nature  suffers  alike  in  the  suc- 
cess and  the  defeat  of  his  party,  solemnly  moralize  the 
scene,  and  render  it  the  more  awfully  impressive  by  draw- 
ing in  a  remembrance  of  the  homely  rural  contentment 
which  has  been  scared  away.  His  plaintive  and  pathetic 
musing  is  aptly  followed  by  a  strain  of  wailing,  wafted,  as 
it  were,  from  the  grand  chorus  of  woe  and  anguish  which 
the  nation  strikes  up,  on  finding  that  in  the  blind  tearing 
rage  of  faction  the  father  has  unwittingly  been  slaughter- 
ing his  son,  and  the  son  his  father.  And  such  an  elegiac 
tone  as  here  swells  upon  the  hearing  is  in  truth  the  most 
natural  and  fit  expression  of  a  meditative  patriotism,  griev- 
ing over  wounds  which  it  is  powerless  to  redress. 

Thus  in  these  two  points  of  the  drama  the  spirit  and 
temper  of  the  whole  war  is  concentrated.  Nor  is  it  easy 
to  see  how  the  materials  could  have  been  better  selected  and 
disposed,  so  as  to  give  out  their  proper  significance,  with- 
out bruising  the  feelings  or  distracting  the  thoughts  of  the 
spectator.  By  the  final  overthrow  of  the  Lancastrians 
at  Towton,  the  Yorkists  were  left  to  the  divulsive  energy 
of  their  own  passions  and  vices ;  for  in  their  previous  con- 
tests had  been  generated  a  virulence  of  self-will  that  would 
needs  set  them  at  strife  with  one  another  when  they  had 
no  common  antagonist  to  strive  against.  The  overbear- 
ing pride  and  arrogance  of  Warwick  would  not  brook  to 
be  crossed,  and  the  pampered  caprice  of  Edward  would 
not  scruple  to  cross  it :  the  latter  would  not  have  fought  as 
he  did,  but  to  the  end  that  he  might  be  king;  nor  would 
the  former  have  done  so  much  for  him,  but  that  he  might 
have  a  king  subject  to  his  control.  It  is  remarkable  that 
the  causes  of  the  deadly  feud  between  the  kingmaker  and 
his  royal  creature  have  never  been  fully  explained.     His- 

viii 


KING   HENRY   VI  introduction 

tory  having  assigned  several,  tlie  Poet,  even  if  he  had 
known  better,  was  amply  warranted  in  taking  the  one  that 
could  be  made  to  tell  most  on  the  score  of  dramatic  interest. 
And  the  scene  at  the  court  of  Lewis  justifies  iiis  choice,  be- 
ing, in  point  of  sound  stage-effect,  probably  the  best  in  the 
play;  while  the  representation,  however  untrue  to  fact,  is 
true  to  the  temper,  the  motives,  and  character  of  the  parties 
concerned;  so  that  the  Poet  may  here  be  said  in  a  justi- 
fiable sense  to  have  invented  history,  gathering  up  and 
bodying  forth  the  spirit  and  life  of  several  years  in  the 
form  of  one  brief  transaction.  With  such  an  occasion  and 
such  an  assemblage  of  character,  what  a  piece  of  work  the 
Poet  would  have  made  in  the  maturity  of  his  powers,  when 
ex})crience  had  armed  his  genius  with  a  proportionable  de- 
gree of  technical  skill ! 

The  marriage  of  King  Edward  with  the  lady  Elizabeth 
took  place  in  May,  1464,  something  more  than  three  years 
after  the  battle  of  Towton.  The  queen's  influence  over  her 
husband,  resulting  in  the  preferment  of  her  family,  gave 
apt  occasion  for  those  discontents  and  schisms  in  the  fac- 
tion, which,  in  whatever  line  of  conduct  he  had  followed, 
could  not  have  been  long  without  pretexts.  Of  course  the 
effect  of  such  schisms  was  to  rally  and  strengthen  the 
opposite  faction  into  a  renewal  of  the  conflict.  The  cap- 
ture of  Edward  by  Warwick  occurred  in  the  summer  of 
1469,  and  was  followed  by  the  restoration  of  Henr}',  who 
had  been  over  five  years  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower.  The 
domineering  and  dictatorial  habit  of  Warwick  was  not  less 
manifest  in  his  alliance  with  Henry  than  it  had  been  with 
Edward.  The  carl  had  given  his  oldest  daughter  to  Clar- 
ence ;  and  as  she  was  to  inherit  her  father's  immense  estates, 
he  thus  seemed  to  have  a  sure  hold  on  her  husband.  But 
the  duke  appears  to  have  regarded  the  marriage  as  offer- 
ing him  a  prospect  of  the  throne ;  so  that  the  main  cord  be- 
tween them  was  broken  when  Warwick  gave  his  second 
daughter  to  the  son  of  Henry.  In  October.  1470,  Edward 
made  his  escape. to  the  continent.  The  following  March  he 
returned,  and  in  about  a  month  was  fought  the  battle  of 


ix 


Introduction 


THE  THIRD  PART  OF 


Barnet,  where  he  recovered  the  throne  in  spite  of  War- 
wick, and  therefore  had  the  better  chance  of  keeping  it. 
For  this  success  he  was  much  indebted  to  the  perfidy  of 
Clarence,  who,  having  raised  a  large  body  of  men  by  com- 
mission from  Henry,  but  with  the  secret  purpose  of  using 
them  for  Edward,  a  few  days  before  threw  off  the  mask, 
openly  renouncing  his  father-in-law,  and  rejoining  his 
brother.  The  death  of  Warwick  at  the  battle  of  Barnet 
left  Edward  little  to  fear,  and  his  security  was  scarce  dis- 
turbed by  the  arrival  of  Queen  Margaret,  on  the  very  day 
of  that  battle,  with  aid  from  France;  which  aid,  together 
with  M^hat  remained  of  Henry's  late  army,  was  despatched 
a  few  days  after  in  the  battle  of  Tewksbury.  Prince  Ed- 
ward being  murdered  at  the  close  of  this  last  battle,  and 
his  father  in  the  Tower  about  two  weeks  later,  the  Lan- 
castrian line  of  princes  was  now  extinct,  so  that  its  partisans 
had  no  inducement  to  prolong  the  terrible  contest. 

Further  particulars  of  the  history  will  be  given  from 
time  to  time  in  our  notes.  By  a  little  attention  to  the  dates 
it  will  be  seen  that  throughout  this  play  the  Poet  keeps  to 
the  actual  order  of  events.  And  a  more  careful  observa- 
tion will  readily  perceive,  that  out  of  a  large  mass  of  ma- 
terials Shakespeare  judiciously  selected  such  portions,  and 
arranged  them  in  such  fashion,  as  might  well  convey  in 
dramatic  form  the  true  historical  scope  and  import  of  the 
whole.  As  the  period  brought  forth  little  that  was  mem- 
orable save  battles,  all  of  which  were  marked  by  much 
the  same  bloodthirstiness  of  spirit,  it  was  scarce  possible  to 
avoid  an  unusual  degree  of  sameness  in  the  action  of  the 
play  ;  and  the  Poet  seems  to  have  made  the  most  of  whatever 
means  were  at  hand  for  giving  variety  to  the  scenes.  Such 
are  the  angry  bickerings  in  parliament  at  the  beginning; 
the  cruel  slaughter  of  young  Rutland,  and  the  fiendish 
mockeries  heaped  upon  York,  at  Wakefield ;  the  lyrical  un- 
bosomings  of  Henry  when  chidden  from  the  field  by  Clif- 
ford, and  when  taken  prisoner  by  the  huntsmen ;  the  woo- 
ing of  lady  Elizabeth  by  Edward,  and  the  biting  taunts 
and  sarcasms  which  his  brothers  vent  upon  him  touching 


X 


KING   HENRY   VI  introduction 

his  marriage;  and  especially  the  passages  between  Lewis, 
Margaret,  Oxford,  and  Warwick,  at  the  French  court;  in 
some  of  which  the  Poet  seems  rather  to  have  overworked  his 
matter  of  purpose  to  relieve  and  diversify  the  representa- 
tion. Yet  this  play  is  by  no  means  equal  to  the  Second 
Part  in  variety  of  interest;  and,  but  for  the  pungent  sea- 
soning sprinkled  in  here  and  there  from  the  bad  heart  and 
busy  brain  of  the  precocious  Richard,  would  be  in  some 
danger  of  perishing  by  its  own  monotony. 

All  through  this  dramatic  series  the  delineation  of  the 
meek  and  inoffensive  Henry  is  wrought  out  with  studious 
care  and  consistency  from  the  character  ascribed  to  him 
m  the  Chronicles.  His  leading  traits  and  dispositions  are 
thus  summed  up  in  Holinshed :  "  He  was  of  seemly  stat- 
ure, of  body  slender;  his  face  beautiful,  wherein  contin- 
ually was  resident  the  bounty  of  mind  with  which  he  was 
inwardly  indued.  Of  his  own  natural  inclination  he  ab- 
horred all  the  vices  as  well  of  the  body  as  of  the  soul.  He 
was  plain,  upright,  far  from  fraud,  wholly  given  to  prayer, 
reading  of  Scriptures,  and  alms-deeds !  of  such  integrity 
of  life,  that  the  bishop,  which  had  been  his  confessor  ten 
years,  avouched  that  he  had  not  all  that  time  committed 
any  mortal  crime ;  so  continent,  as  suspicion  of  unchaste 
life  never  touched  him.  So  far  he  was  from  covetousness, 
that  when  the  executors  of  his  uncle,  surnamed  the  rich 
cardinal,  would  have  given  him  two  thousand  pounds,  he 
plainly  refused  it,  willing  them  to  discharge  the  will  of  the 
departed,  and  would  scarcely  accept  the  same  sum  toward 
the  endowing  of  his  colleges  in  Cambridge  and  Eton.  He 
was  so  pitiful,  that  Avhen  he  saw  the  quarter  of  a  traitor 
against  his  crown  over  Cripplegate  he  willed  it  to  be  taken 
away,  with  these  words, — 'I  will  not  have  any  Christian  so 
cruelly  handled  for  my  sake.'  Many  great  offenses  he  will- 
ingly pardoned ;  and  receiving  at  a  time  a  great  blow  by 
a  wicked  man  which  compassed  his  death,  he  only  said, — 
'Forsooth,  forsooth,  ye  do  foully  to  smite  a  king  anointed 
so.'  " 

The  Poet's  representation  is  in  the  main  but  a  temperate 

xi 


Introduction  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

filling-up  and  coloring  of  this  historical  sketch  and  outline. 
The  three  plays  embrace  the  whole  period  of  the  king's 
life ;  and  in  the  child  of  the  First  Part  a  steady  eye  will 
readily  discern  the  rudiments  of  what  afterwards  appears 
more  fully  developed  in  the  man ;  the  lines  of  his  indi- 
viduality meantime  growing  imperceptibly  firmer,  while 
years  bring  with  them  a  riper  thoughtfulness,  and  a  more 
considerate,  though  hardly  less  passive  virtue.  At  times 
he  seems  quite  spirited  and  energetic,  but  this  is  generally 
under  some  sudden  external  pressure,  and  passes  away  as 
soon  as  he  has  time  to  temper  and  adjust  his  mind  to  the 
exigency.  He  shows  considerable  powers  of  thought  and 
will,  but  somehow  he  cannot  bring  them  to  move  athwart 
his  sense  of  right ;  while  at  the  same  time  such  is  his  moral 
and  intellectual  candor  as  to  render  him  inaccessible  to  the 
sophistries  w^hereby  men  usually  reconcile  their  conscience 
to  the  suggestions  of  interest  or  passion:  so  delicate  and 
sensitive  is  his  rectitude,  that  he  can  hardl}'^  bear  of  two 
evils  to  choose  the  least ;  and  his  position  has  always  been 
such  as  obliged  him  either  to  act  upon  a  choice  of  evils,  or 
else  to  do  nothing.  And  it  is  to  be  noted,  withal,  that 
there  has  ever  been  a  disproportion  between  his  nature  and 
his  circumstances,  so  that  the  latter  could  not  properly 
educate  the  former;  whatsoever  native  principles  of  energy 
there  were  in  him  having  been  rather  choked  down  than 
called  forth,  by  the  rampant,  undisciplined,  overbearing 
energy  of  those  about  him.  Thus  he  is  an  instance  of  a 
truly  good  man,  altogether  out  of  place ;  and  himself  fully 
aware  of  his  unfitness  for  the  place  he  is  in,  yet  unable  to 
leave  it,  for  the  very  reason  that  the  staying  there  involves 
him  in  continual  self-sacrifice.  He  would  still  be  a  peace- 
maker, and  therefore  what  he  did  still  resulted  in  war,  be- 
cause in  his  circumstances  war  was  the  only  effectual  means 
of  peace.  The  only  impartial  man  in  the  kingdom,  his  im- 
partiality, however,  seems  rather  the  offspring  of  weakness 
than  of  principle:  yet,  while  his  condition  moves  our  pity, 
his  piety  and  innocence  secure  him  a  shai'e  of  respect ;  and 
we  are  apt  to  think  of  his  situation  as  one  where  evil  has 

xii 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

got  such  head  tliat  it  must  needs  take  its  course  and  run 
itself  out,  there  being  no  way  for  the  good  to  conquer  but 
by  suffering. 

One  is  strongly  tempted  to  run  a  parallel  between  Henry 
VI  and  Richard  II,  as  delineated  by  Shakespeare.     To  this 
temptation  Hazlitt  yielded  outright,  and  perhaps  we  may 
as  well  follow  him  so  far  at  least  as  to  start  the  subject. 
The  two  kings   closely   resemble   each   other   in  a   certain 
weakness  of  character,  bordering  on  effeminacy,  and  this 
resemblance  is  made  especially  apparent  by  their  similarity 
of  state  and  fortune.     Yet  this  very  circumstance,  which 
in  almost  any  other  hands  would  have  caused  a  confounding 
of  the  men,  seems  only  to  have  put  Shakespeare  upon  a 
more  careful  discrimination  of  them.     Richard  is  as  selfish 
as  he  is  weak,  and  weak,  perhaps,  partly  because  of  his 
selfishness.     With  large  and  fine  powers  of  mind,  still  his 
thinking  never  runs  clear  of  self,  but  is  all  steeped  to  the 
core  in  personal  regards;  and  to  him  a  thing  seems  right 
and  good  only  as,  for  private  ends,  he  wishes  to  have  it  so : 
he  can  scarce  see  things  to  be  true  or  false,  but  as  they 
serve  or  thwart  his  own  fancies  and  pleasures.     And  be- 
cause his  thoughts  do  not  rise  out  of  self,  and  stay  in  the 
contemplation  of  general  and  independent  truth,  therefore 
it  is  that  his  course  of  life  runs  so  tearingly  a-clash  with  the 
laws  and  conditions  of  his  place.     With  Henry,  on  the 
other  hand,  disinterestedness  is  pushed  to  the  degree  of  an 
infirmity.     He  seems  to  perceive  and  own  truth  all  the  more 
willingly  where  it  involves  a  sacrifice  of  his  personal  inter- 
ests and  rights;  whereas,  these  being  an  essential  part  of 
that  general  truth  which  maketh  strong,  a  sober  and  tem- 
perate regard  to  them  is  among  the  constituents  of  wisdom. 
For  a  man,  especially  a  king,  cannot  be  wise  for  others, 
unless  he  be  so  for  himself.     Thus  Henry's  weakness  seems 
to  spring  in  part  from  an  excessive  disregard  of  self.     He 
permits  the  laws  to  suffer,  and  in  them  the  people,  partly 
because  he  cannot  vindicate  them  without,  in  effect,  taking 
care  of  his  own  cause.     This  trait  is  finely  exemplified  in 
his  talk  with  the  keepers  who  have  taken  him  captive,  where 

xiii 


Introduction  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

lie  urges  the  sanctity  of  an  oath  the  more  strictly,  that  in 
this  instance  it  makes  against  himself.  Had  he  been  as 
rigid  and  exacting  in  his  own  case,  as  he  is  here  in  be- 
half of  his  rival,  their  oaths  to  himself  would  not  have 
been  broken ;  and  for  their  breach  of  faith  he  blames 
his  own  remissness,  as  having  caused  them  to  wrong  them- 
selves. 

Much  has  been  said  by  one  critic  and  another  about  the 
Poet's  Lancastrian  prejudices  as  manifested  in  these  plays. 
One  may  well  be  curious  to  know  whether  those  prejudices 
are  to  be  held  responsible  for  the  portrait  of  Queen  Mar- 
garet, wherein  we  have,  so  to  speak,  an  abbreviature  and 
sum-total  of  nearly  all  the  Morst  vices  of  her  time.  The 
character,  however  life-like  and  striking  its  effect,  is  colored 
much  beyond  Avhat  sober  history  warrants :  though  some  of 
the  main  features  are  not  without  a  basis  of  fact,  still 
the  composition  and  expression  as  a  whole  has  hardly 
enough  of  historical  truth  to  render  it  a  caricature.  Bold, 
ferocious,  and  tempestuous,  void  alike  of  delicacy,  of  dig- 
nity, and  of  discretion,  all  the  bad  passions,  out  of  which 
might  be  engendered  the  madness  of  civil  war,  seem  to 
flock  and  hover  about  her  footsteps.  Her  speech  and  ac- 
tion, however,  impart  a  wonderful  vigor  and  lustihood  to 
the  movement  of  the  drama ;  and  perhaps  it  was  only  by 
exaggerating  her  or  some  other  of  the  persons  into  a  sort 
of  representative  character,  that  the  springs  and  processes 
of  that  long  national  bear-fight  could  be  developed  in  a 
poetical  and  dramatic  form.  Her  peneti'ating  intellect  and 
Unrestrainable  volubility  discourse  forth  the  motives  and 
principles  of  the  combatant  factions ;  while  in  her  remorse- 
less impiety  and  revengeful  ferocity  is  impersonated,  as  it 
were,  the  very  genius  and  spirit  of  the  terrible  conflict.  So 
that  we  may  regard  her  as,  in  some  sort,  an  ideal  concen- 
tration of  that  murderous  ecstasy  which  seized  upon  the 
nation.  Nor  is  it  inconsiderable  that  popular  tradition, 
sprung  from  the  reports  of  her  enemies,  and  cherished  by 
patriotic  feeling,  had  greatly  overdrawn  her  wickedness, 
that  it  might  have  whereon  to  father  the  evils  resulting 

xiv 


KING   HENRY  VI  introduction 

from  her  husband's  weakness,  and  the  moral  distemper  of 
the  times. 

The  dramatic  character  of  ^Margaret,  whether  as  trans- 
piring at  court  or  in  the  field,  is  sustained  at  the  same  high 
pitch  throughout.  x\fHictions  do  but  open  in  her  breast 
new  founts  of  embittermcnt :  her  speech  is  ever  teeming  with 
the  sharp  answer  that  engenders  wrath;  and  out  of  every 
wound  issues  the  virulence  that  is  sure  to  provoke  another 
blow.  And  even  in  tlic  next  play,  when  she  is  stripped  of 
arms  and  instruments,  so  that  her  thoughts  can  no  longer 
be  embodied  in  acts,  for  this  very  cause  her  energies  con- 
centrate themselves  more  and  more  in  words :  she  talks  with 
the  greater  power  and  effect,  for  that  she  can  do  nothing 
else;  and  her  eloquence,  while  retaining  all  its  point  and 
fluenc}',  waxes  the  more  formidable,  that  it  is  the  only  organ 
she  has  left  of  her  will.  So  that  she  still  appears  the  same 
high-grown,  wide-branching  tree,  rendered  leafless  indeed, 
and  therefore  all  the  fitter  for  the  blasts  of  heaven  to  howl 
and  whistle  through. 

Much  might  be  said  by  way  of  explaining  how,  in  the 
drama,  the  union  of  Henry  and  Margaret  has  the  effect 
of  making  them  both  more  and  more  what  they  ought  not  to 
be;  his  doing  too  little  evermore  stimulating  her  activity, 
and  her  doing  too  much  as  constantly  opiating  his.  And 
by  their  endeavoring  thus  to  repair  each  other's  excess,  that 
excess  is  not  only  heightened  in  itself,  but  rendered  on  both 
sides' more  mischievous  in  its  effects,  forasmuch  as  it  prac- 
tically inverts  the  relation  between  them:  her  energy  can- 
not make  up  for  his  imbecility,  because  in  either  case  the 
quality  does  not  fit  the  person.  For  in  seeking  to  make  his 
place  good  she  only  displaces  both  herself  and  him,  and, 
of  course,  the  more  she  docs  out  of  her  place,  the  more 
she  undoes  her  cause.  All  which  shows  that  in  such  mat- 
ters it  is  often  of  less  consequence  what  is  done,  than  by 
whom,  and  how  ;  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  issue  de- 
pends not  so  much  on  the  form  of  the  act,  as  on  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  is  viewed  by  those  to  whom  it  refers. 
Finally,    if    any    one   think    that   Margaret's    ferocity    is 

XV 


Introduction  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

strained  up  to  a  pitch  incompatible  with  her  sex,  and  un- 
necessary for  the  occasion ;  perhaps  it  will  be  deemed  a 
sufficient  answer,  that  the  spirit  of  such  a  war  could  scarce 
be  dramatically  conveyed  without  the  presence  of  a  fury, 
and  that  the  Furies  have  always  been  represented  as  fe- 
males. 

Warwick  and  Clifford  are  appropriate  specimens  of  the 
old  English  feudal  baronage  in  the  height  of  its  power  and 
splendor;  a  class  of  men  brave,  haughty,  turbulent,  and 
rough,   accustomed  to   wield  the   most   despotic   authority 
on  their  estates,  and  therefore  spurning  at  legal  restraint  in 
their  public  capacity ;  and  individually  able,  sometimes,  to 
overawe  and  browbeat  both  king  and  parhament.     In  the 
play,  however,  we  see  little  of  their  personal  traits,  these 
being,  for  the  most  part,  lost  in  the  common  habits  and 
sentiments  of  their  order;  not  to  mention  that,  in  the  col- 
lision of  such  steel-clad  champions,  individual  features  are 
apt  to  be  kept  out  of  sight,  and  all  distinctive  tones  are 
naturally  drowned  in  the  clash  of  arms.     It  is  mainly  what 
they  stand  for  in  the  public  action,  that  the  drama  con- 
cerns itself  about,  not  those  characteristic  issues  which  are 
the  proper  elements  of  a  personal  acquaintance.     Yet  they 
are  somewhat  discriminated :  Clifford  is  more  fierce  and  spe- 
cial in  his  revenge,  because  more  tender  and  warm  in  his 
affections ;  while  Warwick  is  more  free   from   particular 
hate,  because  his  mind  is  more  at  ease  in  the  magnitude  of 
his  power,  and  the  feeling  of  his  consequence.     It  is  said 
that  not  less  than  thirty  thousand  persons  lived  daily  at 
the  tables   of  his  different  castles   and  manors.     Add  to 
this,  that  his  hospitality  was  boundless,   his   dispositions 
magnificent,    his    manners    captivating,    his    spirit    frank, 
forthright,  and  undcsigning,  and  it  may  well  be  conceived 
why  his  "housekeeping  won  the   greatest   favour  of  the 
commons,"  insomuch  that,  though  but  an  earl  in  style,  he 
could  in  effect  force  kings  to  reign  as  viceroys  under  him. 
Holinshed  speaks  of  him  thus:     "Full  fraught  was  this 
nobleman  with  good  qualities  right  excellent  and  many,  all 
which  a  certain  natural  grace  did  so  far  forth  recommend, 

XV  i 


KING   HENRY   VI  Introduction 

that  with  high  and  low  he  was  in  singular  favor  and  good 
liking,  so  as,  unsought-for  it  seemed,  he  gi'ew  able  to  com- 
mand all  alone."  And  his  bearing  in  the  play  is  answer- 
able to  the  character  that  history  assigns  him ;  though  it 
were  to  be  wished,  that  in  the  doings  of  the  king-maker  the 
Poet  had  given  us  more  taste  of  the  individual  man. 

The  representation  of  Suffolk  in  the  Second  Part  might 
also  be  cited  in  disproof  of  Shakespeare's  alleged  bias  to 
the  Lancastrian  side.  Ambitious,  unprincipled,  impatient 
of  every  one's  pride  and  purpose  but  his  own,  a  thorough- 
paced scoundrelism  is  depicted  in  him  without  mitigation 
or  remorse.  Yet  if  his  dramatic  character  be  compared 
with  the  worst  that  history  has  alleged  concerning  him,  the 
portrait  will  probably  appear  to  have  rather  the  overcol- 
oring  of  a  young  author  aiming  at  effect,  than  the  temper- 
ance and  moderation  of  conscious  strength.  Generally, 
however,  the  Second  Part  and  the  Third  are  in  effect  a 
pretty  fair  revivification  of  history,  in  that  they  set  before 
us  an  overgrown  nobility,  a  giant  race  of  iron-bound  war- 
riors, who  being  choked  off  from  foreign  conquest,  and 
unused  to  the  arts  of  peace,  their  high-strung  energies  got 
corrupted  into  fierce  hatreds  and  revengeful  passions ;  and 
the}'^  had  no  refuge  from  the  gnawings  of  pride  and  ambi- 
tion, but  to  struggle  and  fight  at  home  for  that  distinc- 
tion which  they  had  been  bred  to  anticipate  by  fighting 
abroad. 

In  the  Second  and  Third  Parts  of  Henrij  VI  the  charac- 
ter of  Richard  is  set  forth  in  the  processes  of  development 
and  formation ;  whereas  in  King  Richard  III  we  have  little 
else  than  the  working-out  of  his  character  as  already 
fomied.  In  Shakespeare's  time  the  prevailing  idea  of 
Richard  was  derived  from  the  History  of  his  Life  and 
Reign,  put  forth  by  Sir  Thomas  More,  but  supposed  to 
have  been  partly  written  by  Dr.  John  IMorton,  himself  a 
part  of  the  subject,  who  was  afterwards  Cardinal,  Primate 
of  England,  and  Lord  Chancellor  to  Henry  VII.  ]More's 
History,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  was  adopted  by  both  Hall 

and  Holinshed  into  their  Chronicles.     In  that  noble  piece 

Silk- 1-28  xvii 


Introduction  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

of  composition  the  main  features  of  the  subject  are  digested 
and  drawn  together  as  follows : 

"Richard,  the  th.ird  son,  was  in  wit  and  courage  equal  with 
either  of  them,  little  of  stature,  ill-featured  of  limbs,  crook- 
backed,  his  left  shoulder  much  higher  than  his  right,  hard- 
favored  of  visage;  malicious,  wrathful,  envious,  and  from 
afore  his  birth  ever  froward.  It  is  reported  that  he  came 
into  the  world  with  the  feet  forward,  and  not  untoothed; 
whether  men  of  hatred  report  above  the  truth,  or  else 
that  nature  changed  her  course  in  his  beginning,  which  in 
his  life  many  things  unnaturally  committed.  Free  he  was 
called  of  dispense,  and  somewhat  above  his  power  Ub- 
eral :  with  large  gifts  he  gat  him  unsteadf ast  friendship,  for 
which  he  was  fain  to  pill  and  spoil  in  other  places,  and 
gat  him  steadfast  hatred.  He  was  close  and  secret,  a  deep 
dissembler,  lowly  of  countenance,  arrogant  of  heart;  out- 
wardly companionable  where  he  inwardly  hated,  not  let- 
ting to  kiss  whom  he  thought  to  kill ;  despiteous  and  cruel, 
not  for  evil  will  always,  but  oftener  for  ambition,  and  either 
for  the  surety  or  increase  of  his  estate."  In  another  place 
he  is  spoken  of  thus :  "His  face  was  small,  but  such,  that 
at  the  first  aspect  a  man  would  judge  it  to  savor  and 
smell  of  malice,  fraud,  and  deceit.  When  he  stood  musing, 
he  would  bite  and  chaw  his  nether  lip;  as  who  said,  that 
his  fierce  nature  in  his  cruel  body  always  chafed,  stirred, 
and  was  ever  unquiet:  besides  that,  the  dagger  which  he 
ware  he  would,  when  he  studied,  with  his  hand  pluck  up 
and  down  in  the  sheath  to  the  midst,  never  drawing  it  fully 
out."  And  elsewhere  he  is  noted  by  the  same  writer  as  be- 
ing inordinately  fond  of  splendid  and  showy  dress,  thus 
evincing  an  intense  craving  to  be  "look'd  on  in  the  world ;" 
to  fill  the  eyes  of  men,  and  ride  in  triumph  on  their 
tongues. 

It  is  evident  that  this  furnished  the  matter  and  form  of 
the  Poet's  conception ;  his  character  of  Richard  being  little 
other  than  the  historian's  descriptive  analysis  reduced 
to  dramatic  life  and  expression.  In  accordance  with 
Shakespeare's  usual  method,  at  our  first  meeting  with  Rich- 

xviii 


KING  HENRY  VI  Imroduction 

arcl,  in  the  Second  Part,  act  v.  sc.  1,  is  suggested  the  first 
principle  and  prohfic  germ  out  of  which  his  action  is 
mainly  evolved.  He  is  called  "foul  stigmatic,"  because 
the  stigma  set  on  his  person  is  both  to  others  the  handiest 
theme  of  reproach,  and  to  himself  the  most  annoying;  like 
a  huge  boil  on  a  man's  face,  which,  because  of  its  un- 
sightliness,  is  the  point  that  his  enemies  see  most,  and,  be- 
cause of  its  soreness,  strike  first.  And  his  personal  de- 
formity is  regarded  not  only  as  the  proper  outshaping  and 
physiognomy  of  a  certain  original  malignity  of  soul,  but 
as  yielding  the  prime  motive  of  his  malignant  dealing,  in 
so  far  as  this  dealing  proceeds  from  motive  as  distinguished 
from  impulse;  his  shape  having  grown  ugly  because  his 
spirit  was  bad,  and  his  spirit  growing  worse  because  of  his 
ugly  shape.  For  his  ill-looks  invite  reproach,  and  re- 
proach quickens  and  heightens  his  malice ;  and  because  men 
hate  to  look  on  him,  he  therefore  cares  all  the  more  to  be 
looked  on ;  and  as  his  aspect  repels  admiration,  he  has  no 
way  to  win  it  but  by  power,  that  so  fear  may  compel  what 
inclination  denies.  Thus  experience  generates  in  him  a  most 
inordinate  lust  of  power;  and  the  circumstantial  impossi- 
bility of  coming  at  this,  save  by  crime,  puts  him  upon 
such  a  course  of  intellectual  training  and  practice  as  may 
enable  him  to  commit  crimes,  and  still  avoid  the  conse- 
quences, thus  reversing  the  natural  proportion  between  suc- 
cess and  desert. 

And  his  extreme  vanity  naturally  results  in  a  morbid 
sensitiveness  to  any  signs  of  neglect  or  scorn ;  and  these 
terms  being  especially  offensive  and  hurtful  to  himself,  he 
therefore  has  the  greater  delight  in  venting  them  on  oth- 
ers: as  taunts  and  scoffs  are  a  form  of  power  which  he 
feels  most  keenl}',  he  thence  grows  to  using  them  as  an 
apt  form  whereby  to  make  his  power  felt.  For  even  so 
bad  men  naturally  covet  to  be  wielding  upon  others  the 
causes  and  instruments  of  their  own  sufferings.  Hence 
the  bitterly  sarcastic  humor  which  Richard  indulges  so 
freely  and  with  such  prodigious  effect ;  as  in  what  he  says 
to  the  Cliffords,  at  his  first  appearance  in  the  play,  and 

xix 


Introduction  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

again  in  the  dialogue  that  takes  places  over  the  dead  body 
of  the  younger  Clifford.  Of  course  his  sensitiveness  is 
keenest  touching  the  very  particular  wherein  his  vanity  is 
most  thwarted  and  wounded :  he  thinks  of  nothing  so  much 
as  the  ugliness  that  balks  his  desire,  and  resents  nothing  so- 
sharply  as  the  opinion  or  feeling  it  arrays  against  him. 
Accordingly  his  first  and  heaviest  shots  of  sarcasm  are  at 
those  who  were  the  first  to  twit  him  on  that  score.  And  in 
the  scene  where  Prince  Edward  is  killed,  he  seems  unmoved 
till  the  prince  hits  him  in  that  eye,  when  his  wrath  takes 
fire  at  once,  and  bursts  out  in  the  reply, — "By  Heaven, 
brat,  I'll  plague  you  for  that  word." 

All  which  indicates  the  cause  of  his  being  so  prone  to 
"descant  on  his  own  deformity:"  his  thoughts  still  brood 
upon  it,  because  it  is  the  sorest  spot  in  his  condition ;  and 
because  he  never  forgets  it,  therefore  he  is  the  more  in- 
tent on  turning  it  into  the  source  of  a  dearer  gratification 
than  any  it  withholds  from  him,  the  consciousness,  namely, 
of  such  an  inward  power  as  can  bear  him  onward  and  up- 
ward in  spite  of  such  outward  clogs.  Thus  the  shame 
of  personal  disgrace,  which  in  a  good  mind  yields  apt  mo- 
tive and  occasion  of  a  sweet  and  virtuous  life,  in  the  case 
of  Richard  inverts  itself  into  a  most  hateful  and  malig- 
nant form  of  pride, — the  pride  of  intellectual  force  and 
mastery.  Hence  he  comes  to  glory  in  the  very  matter  of 
his  shame,  to  exaggerate  it,  and  hang  over  it,  as  serving  to 
approve,  to  set  off,  and  magnify  the  strength  and  fertility 
of  wit  whereby  he  is  able  to  triumph  over  it ;  as  who  would 
say, — Nature  indeed  made  me  the  scorn  and  reproach  of 
men,  nevertheless,  I  have  proved  too  much  for  her,  and 
made  myself  their  wonder  and  applause ;  and  though  my 
body  be  such  that  men  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  me,  yet 
I  have  managed  to  chann  their  eyes. 

It  should  be  remarked  that  Richard,  steeped  as  he  is  inj 
essential  villainy,  is  actuated  by  no  such  "motiveless  ma- 
lignity" as  distinguishes  lago.  Cruel  and  unrelenting  in 
pursuit  of  his  end,  yet  there  is  no  wanton  and  gratuitous 
cruelty  in  him:  in  all  his  crimes  he  has  a  purpose  beyond 

XX 


XING    HENRY    VI  Introduction 

the  act  itself.  Nor  docs  lie  sccni  properly  to  hate  those 
Avhom  he  kills :  they  stand  bctw  cen  him  and  his  ruling 
passion,  and  he  "has  neither  pity,  love,  nor  fear,"  that  he 
should  blench  or  scniple  to  hew  them  out  of  the  way.  And 
he  has  a  certain  redundant,  impulsive,  restless  activity  of 
nature,  that  he  never  can  hold  slill ;  in  virtue  of  which,  as 
his  thought  seizes  with  amazing  quickness  and  sureness 
where,  and  when,  and  how  to  cut,  so  he  is  equally  sudden 
and  sure  of  hand:  the  purpose  flashes  upon  him,  and  he  in- 
stantly darts  to  the  crisis  of  performance,  the  thought  set- 
ting his  wliole  being  a-stir  with  executive  transport.  It 
is  as  if  such  an  excess  of  life  and  energy  had  been  rammed 
into  his  little  body,  as  to  strain  and  bulge  it  out  of  shape. 


XXI 


COMMENTS 

By  Shakespearean  Scholars 

THE  ENGLISH  CHRONICLE  PLAY 

Among  the  many  and  diverse  forms  which  the  English 
drama  displayed  in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury there  is  none  which  was  at  once  so  popular  in  its 
d&y  and  so  distinctively  English  as  that  which  drew  its 
subject-matter  from  the  historical  lore  of  the  national 
chronicles.  For  3^ears  this  variety  of  drama  disputed  with 
Romantic  comedy  and  tragedy  the  supremacy  of  the  stage, 
and  only  yielded  to  defeat  with  the  subsidence  of  the 
national  spirit  of  which  it  was  born.  The  English  Chron- 
icle Play  began  with  the  tide  of  patriotism  which  united 
all  England  to  repel  the  threatened  invasion  of  Philip  of 
Spain.  It  ebbed  and  lost  its  national  character  with  the 
succession  of  James,  an  un-English  prince,  to  the  throne 
of  Elizabeth. — Schelling,  The  English  Chronicle  Play. 

HENRY  VI 

In  prison  Henry  at  last  is  really  happy ;  now  he  is  re- 
sponsible for  nothing;  he  enjoys  for  the  first  time  tranquil 
solitude;  he  is  a  bird  who  sings  in  his  cage.  His  latter 
days  he  will  spend,  to  the  rebuke  of  sin  and  the  praise  of 
his  Creator,  in  devotion.  Henry's  equanimity  is  not  of  the 
highest  kind ;  he  is  incapable  of  commotion.  His  peace  is 
not  that  which  underlies  wholesome  agitation,  a  peace  which 
passes  understanding.  "Quietness  is  a  grace,  not  in  itself; 
only  when  it  is  grafted  on  the  stem  of  faith,  zeal,  self- 
abasement,  and  diligence."  If  Henry  had  known  the  no- 
bleness of  true  kingship,  his  content  in  prison  might  be 

xxii 


KING   HENRY   VI  Comments 

admirable;  as  it  is,  the  beauty  of  that  content  does  not 
strike  us  as  of  a  rich  or  vivid  kind.  But  the  end  is  come, 
and  that  is  a  gain.  Henry  has  3'iclded  to  the  house  of 
York,  and  the  evil  time  is  growing  shorter.  The  words  of 
the  great  Duke  of  York  are  confirmed  by  our  sense  of  fact 
and  right: 

King  did  I  call  thee?  nay,  thou  art  not  king. 

Give  place;  by  heaven  thou  shalt  rule  no  more 
O'er  him  whom  heaven  created   for  thy  ruler. 

— DowDEx,  Shakspere — His  Mind  and  Art. 

In  the  last  scene  of  RicJiard  II  his  despair  lends  him 
courage :  he  beats  the  keeper,  slab's  two  of  his  assassins,  and 
dies  with  imprecations  in  his  mouth  against  Sir  Pierce 
Exton,  who  "had  staggered  his  royal  person."  Henry, 
when  he  is  seized  by  the  deer-stealers,  onl}'  reads  them  a 
moral  lecture  on  the  duty  of  allegiance  and  the  sanctity  of 
an  oath :  and  when  stabbed  by  Gloucester  in  the  tower,  re- 
proaches him  with  his  crimes,  but  pardons  him  his  own 
death. — Hazlitt,  Characters  of  Shakespears  Plays. 


LADY  GREY 

She  was  a  poor  widow  who  came  trembling  before  King 
Edward,  and  begged  him  to  restore  to  her  children  the 
small  estate  which,  after  the  death  of  her  husband,  had  re- 
verted to  the  enemy.  The  licentious  king,  who  could  not 
stir  her  chastity,  was  so  enchanted  by  her  beauty,  that  he 
placed  the  crown  on  her  head.  Her  history,  known  to  all 
the  world,  announces  how  much  misery  to  both  came  from 
this  match. — Heine,  Florentine  'Sights. 

THE  WARWICKS 

The  magnificent  and  exceedingly  romantic  castle  of 
Warwick,  was  the  seat  of  the  powerful  Earls  of  Warwick, 
a  brave  and  warlike  race,  which  has  played  a  prominent 

xxiii 


Comments  THE    THIRD   PART    OF 

part  in  the  history  of  England.  The  founder  of  the  fam- 
il}'^  is  said  to  have  been  the  legendary  Guy  of  Warwick, 
the  subduer  of  the  Danish  giant  Colbrand,  who  after  his 
warlike  exploits  retired  to  what  is  now  called  Guy's  Cliff, 

Where  with  my  hands  I  hewed  a  house 
Out  of  a  craggy  rocke  of  stone; 
And  lived  like  a  palmer  poore 
Within  that  cave  myself  alone: 

And  daylye  came  to  begg  my  bread 
Of  Phelis  att  my  castle  gate. 
Not  knowne  unto  my  loved'  wiffe 
Who  dayle  mourned  for  her  mate,  &c. 

The  legends  and  ballads  relating  to  Sir  Guy  must  un- 
doubtedly have  been  told  or  sung  to  the  boy  Shakespeare ; 
and  no  doubt  he  had  also  seen  the  statue  of  the  old  hero 
at  Guy's  Cliff.  Among  the  famous  Norman  Earls  of 
Warwick  are  the  Beauchamps,  especially  Thomas  Beau- 
champ,  the  fourth  Earl,  whom  parliament  appointed  guard- 
ian of  Richard  II ;  and  Richard  Beauchamp,  the  fifth  Earl, 
surnamed  the  Good  (1381—1439),  who  distinguished  him- 
self in  the  struggle  with  Owen  Glendower,  and  at  the  battle 
of  Shrewsbury  against  the  Percies ;  it  was  he  who  negoti- 
ated the  marriage  of  Henry  V  with  Catherine  of  France, 
and  was  appointed  "tutor"  to  Henry  VI  up  to  his  fifteenth 
year.  This  Richard  Beauchamp  was  likewise  one  of  the 
heroes  of  the  Wars  of  the  Roses.  He  died  as  Regent  of 
France  at  Rouen,  and  his  body  was  brought  to  Warwick 
and  buried  in  St.  Mary's  Church  in  the  Beauchamp  Chapel, 
which  had  been  erected  there  by  him ;  his  tomb,  v/hich  is 
said  to  have  cost  the  extravagant  sum  of  nearly  £2,500, 
is  still  an  object  of  admiration  to  persons  visiting  War- 
wick. His  son  Henry  was  not  only  made  Earl  of  War- 
wick, by  Henry  VI,  but  subsequently  even  King  of  the  Isle 
of  Wight,  of  Jersey  and  Guernsey.  With  him  the  male 
line  of  the  Beauchamps  became  extinct  in  1445,  and  the 
lands  and  possessions  passed,  through  the  female  line,  into 
the  hands  of  the  Nevilles,  the  first  and  mightiest  of  these 

xxiv 


KING   HENRY   VI  Comments 

being  the  famous  Richard  Neville,  the  "king-maker."  He 
was  the  mainstay  of  the  Yorkists  (the  White  Rose)  for 
whom  he  gained  the  victories  of  St.  Albans  and  North- 
ampton. He  was  less  successful  at  the  battle  of  Wake- 
field and  at  the  second  battle  of  St.  Albans.  In  conjunc- 
tion with  the  Duke  of  York,  however,  he  drove  the 
Lancastrian  pai'ty  back  northwards,  and  in  March,  1461, 
proclaimed  his  cousin  king  in  London,  as  Edward  IV.  By 
his  victory  at  Towton  he  secured  the  throne  for  the  newly- 
made  king,  who  in  return,  showered  honors  and  rewards 
upon  him  and  his  family.  Nevertheless,  discords  gradually 
arose  between  the  dependent  king  and  his  all-powerful  vas- 
sal, which  ended  in  the  latter  having  to  flee  to  the  Conti- 
nent in  1470 ;  while  there  he  gave  his  daughter  Anne  in 
marriage  to  Edward  Prince  of  Wales,  the  son  of  Queen 
Margaret.  Thei'cupon  at  the  head  of  a  considerable  force 
he  landed  at  Plymouth,  and  proclaimed  Henry  VI  king. 
Edward  IV,  meanwhile,  fled  to  Holland,  where  he  likewise 
raised  an  army,  which  he  brought  over  and  landed  at 
Ravenspurg,  in  Yorkshire,  in  March.  1471.  At  the  battle 
of  Barnet,  the  Lancastrians  were  at  iast  thoroughly  beaten, 
but  the  King-Maker  and  his  brother  Lord  Montague  lost 
their  lives  on  the  field  of  battle.  Richard  Neville  left  two 
daughters,  Isabella,  married  to  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  the 
brother  of  Edward  IV,  and  Anne  (mentioned  above),  who 
after  the  murder  of  her  first  husband  in  1741,  married  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  afterwards  Richard  III. 

These  were  the  great  historical  characters  whom  young 
Shakespeare  could  not  fail  to  have  thought  of,  when  enter- 
ing Warwick  Castle  by  the  passage  cut  through  the  solid 
rock,  and  gazing  at  its  massive  towers  built  to  withstand 
the  wear  and  tear  of  hundreds  of  years, — or  when  visiting 
the  Beauchamp  Chapel  and  looking  inquisitively  at  its 
monuments  and  tombstones  there.  That  Shakespeare,  even 
as  a  boy,  wandered  to  Wanvick,  which  was  only  some  eight 
miles  from  Stratford,  and  became  acquainted  with  all  the 
objects  of  interest  there,  will  not  admit  of  any  reasonable 
doubt.     At  Warwick  he  would  at  once  be  transported  to 

XXV 


Comments  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

the  time  of  the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  to  the  scene  of  his  His- 
tories, and  would  ]earn  the  present  as  well  as  the  past  cir- 
cumstances of  the  famous  race  of  earls  who  figure  in  all 
of  these  dramas.  Would  it  be  too  much  to  maintain  that 
the  youthful  impressions  which  Warwick  made  upon  Shake- 
speare, were  the  first  inspiration  of  his  Histories? — Elze, 
William  Shakespeare. 

RICHARD,  DUKE  OF  GLOUCESTER 

If  we  may  call  the  character  of  Henry  VI  Shakespeare's 
own  creation,  that  of  Richard  of  Gloucester,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  wholly  prepared  for  his  use  in  the  Third  Part. 
The  aspiring  spirit  inherited  from  his  father ;  the  glance  of 
the  eagle  at  the  sun ;  the  great  ambition,  the  indifference  to 
the  means  for  an  object;  the  valor,  the  superstition  which 
represents  in  him  the  voice  of  conscience ;  the  subtle  art 
of  dissimulation ;  the  histrionic  talent  of  a  "Roscius,"  the 
faithless  policy  of  a  Catiline ;  these  had  been  already  as- 
signed to  him  by  Greene  in  this  piece.  But  how  excellent 
even  here  have  been  Shakespeare's  after-touches  is  evinced 
in  the  soliloquy  (Part  III  Act  iii.  sc.  2),  where  the  am- 
bitious projects  of  the  duke  hold  counsel  as  it  were  with 
his  means  of  realizing  them ;  it  is  the  counterpart  to  the 
similar  soliloquy  of  his  father  York  (Part  II  Act  iii.  sc. 
1),  and  permits  us  to  anticipate  how  far  the  son  will  sur- 
pass the  father.  The  principal  figure  of  the  two  plays, 
Richard  of  York,  is  almost  throughout  delineated  as  if  the 
nature  of  his  more  fearful  son  was  prefigured  in  him. 
Far-fetched  policy  and  the  cunning  and  dissimulation  of  a 
prudent  and  determined  man  are  blended  in  him — not  in 
the  same  degree,  but  in  the  same  apparent  contradiction  as 
in  Richard — with  firmness,  with  a  hatred  of  flattery,  with 
inability  to  cringe,  and  with  bitter  and  genuine  discontent. 
With  the  same  assurance  and  superiority  as  Richard  the 
son,  he  is  at  one  time  ready  to  decide  at  the  point  of  the 
sword,  and  at  another  to  shuffle  the  cards  silently  and  wait 
"till  time  do  serve;"  both  alike  are  animated  by  the  same 

xxvi 


KING   HENRY   VI  Comments 

aspirations  and  ambitions.  Had  he  been  endowed  with 
the  same  favor  of  nature  as  his  father,  Richard  would  have 
developed  the  same  good  qualities  which  the  father  pos- 
sessed in  addition  to  his  dangerous  gifts.  Ugly,  mis- 
shapen, and  despised,  without  a  right  to  the  throne  and 
without  any  near  prospect  of  satisfying  his  royal  projects, 
his  devouring  ambition  was  poisoned ;  in  his  father,  called 
as  he  was  the  flower  of  the  chivah-y  of  Europe,  convinced 
of  his  rights  and  proud  of  his  merits,  the  aspiring  dispo- 
sition was  moderated  into  a  more  legitimate  form.  At  the 
death  of  his  son  Rutland  his  better  nature  bursts  forth 
forcibly  to  hght.  He  is  honest  enough,  upon  the  pre- 
tended disgrace  of  his  enemy  Somerset,  to  dismiss  his 
*'powers"  and  to  give  his  sons  as  pledges ;  had  he  not  been 
led  away  by  his  sons,  he  is  moderate  enough,  and  is  even 
ready  to  suspend  his  claims  to  the  throne  until  Henry's 
death,  whom,  in  the  course  of  nature,  he  was  not  likely  to 
survive ;  ho  labored  for  his  house,  and  not  as  his  son,  for 
himself.  His  claims  and  those  of  his  house,  which  he  as- 
serts in  opposition  to  the  helpless  and  inactive  Henry,  he 
grounds  not  upon  the  malicious  consciousness  of  personal 
superiority,  as  his  son  Richard  does  subsequently ;  but 
upon  a  good  right,  upon  his  favor  with  the  people,  upon 
his  services  in  France  and  Ireland.  Contrasted  with 
Henry,  he  feels  himself  more  kingly  in  birth,  nature,  and 
disposition.  When  he  exercises  his  retaliation  on  the  Lan- 
castrians, he  utters  those  words  which  Bolingbroke  had 
before  more  cunningly  applied  to  Richard  II:  "Let  them 
obey,  that  know  not  how  to  rule." — Gervinus,  Shakespeare 
Commentaries. 

THE  TRILOGY 

In  all  three  parts  we  have  a  reflection  of  the  same  law, 
of  the  same  conception  of  history,  which  again  is  but  a 
modification  of  the  fundamental  theme  of  the  whole  tril- 
ogy; all  the  parts  gather  round  one  central  point  and 
arrange   themselves    into    one   great   whole.     .     .     .     We 

xxvii 


Comments  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

have  history  represented  in  its  degeneration  into  civil  war, 
which  is  the  consequence  of  the  original  disturbance  of  its 
course  and  of  the  general  demoralization  which  increases 
with  it.  This  is  the  theme  upon  which  the  whole  trilogy 
is  based,  and  which  exhibits  the  two  sides  of  life  according 
to  Shakespeare's  conception.  The  three  parts  then  show 
the  principal  stages  in  the  development  of  such  a  state  of 
things.  History,  when  so  degenerate,  first  of  all  casts  out 
those  that  are  good  and  noble  but  who  are  nevertheless  not 
wholly  unaffected  by  the  spirit  of  their  age,  and  at  the 
same  time  shows  that  the  great  and  pure  are  not  understood 
and  that  they  cannot  keep  themselves  entirely  pure.  This 
is  exhibited  in  the  First  Part  by  the  events  belonging  to 
it  (and  hence,  because  appropriate  here  only,  Shakespeare 
introduces  Talbot's  death  into  this  first  part  in  violation  of 
the  laws  of  chronology).  History  then  continues  falling 
into  a  wild  state  of  chaos,  where  right  and  wrong  flow 
into  one  another  and  can  no  longer  be  distinguished,  and 
consequently  where  the  bad  and  the  good,  or,  to  speak  more 
correctly,  the  bad  and  those  that  are  less  bad  are  drawn 
into  the  general  vortex.  This  is  the  second  stage  of  which 
we  have  a  representation  in  the  Second  Part.  Having  ar- 
rived at  this  climax,  history  demands  that  man  shall  not 
interfere  with  its  course,  and  refrain  from  having  any  de- 
termination of  his  own,  and  that  he  shall  leave  all  action  to 
that  man  whom  it  has  itself  chosen  to  restore  order.  It 
therefore  punishes  every  uncalled-for  interference  as  un- 
authorized presumption,  whereas  the  submissive  spirit  is  in- 
wardly exalted  and  glorified  through  suffering  and  death. 
This  is  the  thought  which  connects  the  events  of  the  Third 
Part  into  an  organic  unity. — Ulrici,  Shakespeare's  Dra- 
matic Art. 

CONCLUSION 

In  leaving  these  plays  I  would  draw  attention  to  the 
parallel  not  only  of  incident  but  expression,  of  the  slaugh- 
ter of  young  Rutland  by  Clifford,  and  that  of  Lycaon  by 
Achilles  in  the  Iliad.     The  resemblance  may  be  due  to  the 

xxviii 


KING   HENRY   VI  Comments 

classical  knowledge  of  the  original  English  dramatist-,  or 
to  the  sympathy  of  poetic  minds.  The  rendering  of  this 
passage  is  one  of  the  worthiest  in  Pope's  translation.  Clif- 
ford and  Achilles  are  here  merciless  alike,  and  yet  not  ut- 
terly pitiless : — 

"Clifford.  In   vain   thou   speak'st,   poor  boy;   my    father's    blood 
Hath  stopp'd  the  passage  where  thy  words  should  enter." 

And  thus  the  Greek:— 

"Die  then,  my  friend,  what  boots  it  to  deplore, 
The  great,  the  good  Patroclus  is  no  more." 

— Lloyd,  Critical  Essays. 


ZXIX 


THE  THIRD  PART  OF 
KING  HENRY  VI 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

— KixG  Hexry  the  sixth 
Edwaro,  Prince  of  Wales,  his  son 
Lewis  XI,  King  of  France 
Duke  of  Somerset 
Duke  of  Exeter 
Earl  of  Oxford 
Earl  of  Northumberlakd 
Earl  of  Westmoreland 
Lord  Clifford 
Richard  Plantagenet,  Duke   of   York 

Edward,  Earl  of  March,  afterwards  King  Edward  IV, 
Edmund,  Earl  of  Rvtl<ind,  l^/^j^.  ^q^^ 

George,  afterioards  Duke  of  Clarence, 
Richard,  afterwards  Duke  of  Gloucester, 

Duke  of  Norfolk 

Marquess  of  Montague 

Earl  of  Warwick 

Earl  of  Pemijroke 

Lord    Hastings 

Lord  Stafford 

Sir  Jorn  Mortimer,     T  ^^^^^^^  ^^  ,^^  p„^g  0/  York 

Sir  Hugh  Mortimer,    J 

Henry,  Earl  of  Richmond,  a  youth 

Lord  Ritors,  brother  to  Lady  Grey 

Sir  William  Stanley 

Sir  John  Montgomery 

Sir  John  Somerville 

Tutor  to  Rutland.     Mayor  of  York 

Lieutenant  of  the  Tower.     A  Nobleman 

Two  Keepers.     A  Huntsman 

A  Son  that  has  killed  his  father 

A   Father  that  has  killed  his  son 

Queen   Margaret 

Lady  Grey,  afterwards  Queen  to  Edward  IV 

Bona,  sister  to  the  French  Queen 

Soldiers,  Attendants,  Mes;«ngers,  W^itchmen,  &C, 
Scene:  England  and  France 


i 


SYNOrSIS 


/>>"  ■* 


ACT    I 


Before  Henry  VI  reaches  London,  the  Duke  of  York  is 
there  and  is  seated  on  the  throne  by  the  Earl  of  Warwick. 
The  king  enters  the  Parhament-house  and  finding  threats 
of  no  avail  to  make  York  give  up  the  throne,  promises 
that  York  shall  be  his  heir.  Margaret  is  very  angry  that 
her  son  should  thus  be  denied  the  succession  and  she  her- 
self raises  an  army.  A  battle  takes  place  between  the 
forces  of  the  queen  and  those  of  York,  in  which  the  latter 
is  defeated  and  slain. 

ACT    II 


i  ^ 


Edward  and  Richard,  York's  sons,  are  much  disheart- 
'''    encd  over  the  death  of  their  father,  but  are  encouraged 

when  Warwick  joins  them.  Another  battle  is  fought  near 
^    Towton  and  Henry's  forces  are  routed.      Edward  and  his 

followers  then  proceed  to  London,  there  to  crown  Edward 

as  king. 

ACT   ui 

After  Edward's  coronation,  Warwick  journeys  to 
France  to  arrange  a  marriage  between  the  new  king  and 
the  Princess  Bona,  sister  of  the  queen  of  France.  King 
Hcnr,y  is  taken  prisoner  and  carried  to  the  London  Tower. 
At  the  French  court  Warwick  meets  ?Jargiiret;  both  plead 
with  Lewis,  the  first  for  the  hand  of  Bona  for  his  king  and 
the  latter  for  aid  to  restore  Henry  to  his  throne.  Lewis 
has  just  promised  to  accede  to  Warwick's  wishes  when  a 
post  enters  bringing  letters.      They   contain   the  news   of 

S 


Synopsis  KING  HENRY  VI 

Edward's  marriage  with  Lady  Elizabeth  Grey.  Angry 
with  Edward  for  his  broken  faith,  Warwick  and  Lewis  both 
turn  to  Margaret ;  Warwick  is  reconciled  to  her  and  Lewis 
promises  her  the  French  troops  she  so  much  needs. 

ACT    IV 

Warwick  hastens  to  England,  by  forced  marches  sur- 
prises Edward,  deposes  him,  and  restores  the  crown  to 
Henry.  Edward  escapes  from  his  captors  and  flees  to 
Burgundy,  where  he  succeeds  in  recruiting  fresh  troops. 
He  returns  to  his  dukedom  of  York  in  England  and  is 
there  joined  by  his  own  friends  and  their  followers.  They 
march  upon  London  and  Henry  is  again  seized  and  im- 
prisoned in  the  Tower. 

ACT    V 

Warwick  "the  King-maker"  and  Edward  meet  in  battle 
near  Barnet  and  the  forces  of  the  Earl  are  defeated,  he 
himself  being  killed.  The  king  then  proceeds  to  Tewks- 
bury,  where  he  meets  Margaret  and  her  French  troops. 
The  queen  is  taken  prisoner,  and  the  prince,  her  son, 
stabbed  to  death  by  York's  brother.  Edward's  brother, 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  hastens  to  London  and  kills  Henry. 
Edward  ascends  the  throne  with  every  prospect  of  peace 
and  security  for  the  future  were  it  not  for  the  mutterings 
of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester, 


THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

KING  HENRY  VI 

ACT  FIRST 

Scene  I 

London.     The  Parliament-house. 

Alarum.  Enter  the  Duke  of  York,  Edward, 
Richard,  Norfolk,  Montague,  Wai^ick,  and 
Soldiers. 

War.  I  wonder  how  the  king  escaped  our  hands. 

York.  While   we   pursued   the   horsemen   of   the 
north, 
He  shly  stole  away  and  left  his  men : 
Whereat  the  great  Lord  of  Northumherland, 
Whose  warlike  ears  could  never  brook  retreat, 
Cheer'd  up  the  drooping  army;  and  himself, 
Lord  Clifford  and  Lord  Stafford,  all  a-breast, 
Charged  our  main  battle's  front,  and  breaking 


in 


Were  by  the  swords  of  common  soldiers  slain. 

9.  It  was  seen  in  the  note  to  1.  30  of  Act.  v.  sc.  2,  of  the  preceding 
play,  that  the  circumstances  of  old  Clifford's  death  are  here  stated 
as  they  really  were.  As  the  representation  is  in  both  cases  the  same 
in  the  quartia  as  in  the  folio,  it  is  obvious  that  on  the  principle  of 
Malone's   reasoning   this   discrepancy   proves   the   two   parts   of    the 

5 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Edw.  Lord  Stafford's  father,  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, 10 
Is  either  slain  or  wounded  dangerously; 
I  cleft  his  beaver  with  a  downright  blow: 
That  this  is  true,  father,  behold  his  blood 
Mont.-  And,  brother,  here's  the  Earl  of  V/iltshire's 
blood, 
Whom  I  encounter'd  as  the  battles  join'd. 
Rich.  Speak  thou  for  me  and  tell  them  what  I  did. 
^Throwing  down  the  Duke  of  Somerset's  head. 
York.  Richard  hath  best  deserved  of  all  my  sons. 
But  is  your  grace  dead,  my  Lord  of  Somerset? 
Norf.  Such  hope  have  all  the  line  of  John  of 
Gaunt  1 

quarto  to  have  been  by  different  hands.  Of  course  the  personal 
fight  of  York  and  Clifford  in  the  former  play  was  for  dramatic 
effect;  and  here  the  Poet  probably  fell  back  upon  the  historical 
facts  without  thinking  of  his  preceding  fiction. — In  the  present 
scene  Shakespeare  brings  into  close  juxtaposition  events  that  were 
in  fact  more  than  five  years  asunder.  The  first  battle  of  St.  Al- 
bans was  fought  May  23,  1455,  and  the  parliament  at  Westminster, 
whose  proceedings  are  here  represented,  was  opened  October  7, 
1560.  In  October,  1459,  the  Yorkists  had  been  dispersed,  and  the 
duke  himself  with  his  son  Edmund  had  fled  to  Ireland;  but  they 
soon  rallied  again,  and  in  July,  1460,  a  terrible  battle  v/as  fought 
at  Northampton,  wherein  the  Yorkists  were  again  victorious,  and  got 
the  king  into  their  hands,  and  compelled  him  soon  after  to  call  the 
parliament  in  question. — H.  N.  H. 

11.  "damjerously,"  Theobald's  correction  (from  Qq.);  Ff.,  "darir- 
gerovs." — I.  G. 

14.  In  this  play  York  and  Montague  are  made  to  address  each 
other  several  times  as  brothers.  Perhaps  the  Poet  thought  that 
John  Nevil,  marquess  of  Montague,  was  brother  to  York's  wife, 
whereas  he  was  her  nephew.  Montague  was  brother  to  the  earl  of 
Warwick;  and  the  duchess  of  York  was  half-sister  to  their  father, 
the  earl  of  Salisbury.— H.  N.  H. 

18.  "But  is  your  grace";  Pope,  "Is  his  grace";  Capell,  "Is  your 
grace";  Malone  (from  Qq.),  "What,  is  your  grace";  Steevens,  "What, 
's  your  grace";  Lettsom,  "What.,  Is  your  grace." — I.  G. 

19.  "hope";  Capell,  "enci";  Dyce  (Anon,  conj.),  "hap."—l.  G. 

6 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

Rich.  Thus  do  I  hoi)e  to  shake  King  Henry's  head. 

War.  And  so  do  1.     Victorious  Prince  of  York,  ^1 
Before  I  see  thee  seated  in  that  throne 
Which  now  the  house  of  Lancaster  usurps, 
I  vow  by  heaven  these  eyes  shall  never  close. 
This  is  the  palace  of  the  fearful  king, 
And  this  the  regal  seat:  possess  it,  York; 
For  this  is  thine,  and  not  King  Henry's  heirs'. 

York.  Assist  me,  then,  sweet  Warwick,  and  I  will; 
For  hither  we  have  broken  in  by  force. 

Norf.  We  '11  all  assist  you ;  he  that  flies  shall  die.  30 

York.  Thanks,  gentle  Norfolk:  stay  by  me,  my 
lords ; 
And,  soldiers,  stay  and  lodge  by  me  this  night 

[They  go  up. 

War.  And  when  the  king  comes,  offer  him  no 
violence. 
Unless  he  seek  to  thrust  you  out  perforce. 

York.  The  queen  this  day  here  holds  her  parlia- 
ment. 
But  little  thinks  we  shall  be  of  her  council : 
By  words  or  blows  here  let  us  win  our  right. 

Rich.  Arm'd  as  we  are,  let 's  stay  within  this  house. 

War.  The  bloody  parliament  shall  this  be  call'd. 
Unless  Plantagenet,  Duke  of  York,  be  king,  40 
And  bashful  Henry  deposed,  whose  cowardice 
Hath  made  us  by-words  to  our  enemies. 

34.  "thrust  you  out  perforce";  Rowe,  "thrust  you  out  by  force"; 
Capell  (from  Qq.)»  "put  vs  out  by  force." — I.  G. 

36.  "council";  Pope's  emendation  of  Ff.  1,  2,  "counsaile";  F.  3, 
"coumeU";  F.  4,  "coMmeV'—l.  G. 

41.  "And  bashful  Henry  deposed,  whose  cowardice" ;  Qq.,  "b« 
deposde";  as  the  line  stands  in  the  Ff.  "Henry"  must  be  either  dis- 
syllabic or  monosyllabic. — I.  G. 

7 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

York,  Then  leave  me  not,  my  lords ;  be  resolute : 
I  mean  to  take  possession  of  my  right. 

Wa7\  Neither  the  king,  nor  he  that  loves  him  best, 
The  proudest  he  that  holds  up  Lancaster, 
Dares  stir  a  wing,  if  Warwick  shake  his  bells. 
I  '11  jilant  Plantagenet,  root  him  up  who  dares : 
Resolve    thee,    Richard;    claim    the    English 
crown. 

Flourish.  Enter  King  Henry,  Clifford,  North- 
umberlandj  Westmoreland ,  Exeter,  and  the 
rest. 

K.  Hen.  My  lords,  look  where  the  sturdy  rebel  sits. 
Even  in  the  chair  of  state :  belike  he  means,  51 
Back'd  by  the  power  of  Warwick,  that  false 

peer, 
To  aspire  unto  the  crown  and  reign  as  king. 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  he  slew  thy  father, 
And  thine,  Lord  Clifford;  and  you  both  have 

vow'd  revenge 
On  him,  his  sons,  his  favorites  and  his  friends. 
North.  If  I  be  not,  heavens  be  revenged  on  me! 
Clif.  The  hope  thereof  makes  CliiFord  mourn  in 

steel. 
West.  What,  shall  we  suffer  this?  let 's  pluck  him 
down: 

47.  The  allusion  is  to  falconry.  Hawks  had  sometimes  little  bells 
hung  on  them,  perhaps  to  dare  the  birds;  that  is,  to  fright  them 
from  rising.  The  quarto  has  "the  proudest  bird  that  holds  up  Lan- 
caster."—H.  N.  H. 

55.  "You  both  have  vow'd";  F.  4,  "yoii  have  both  voio^d" ;  Pope, 
"you  vow'd";  Collier  MS.,  "you  have  voiv'd";  Collier  conj.  "both 
have  vow'd";  Vaughan  conj.  "you  bolh  vow'd." — I.  G. 

56,  "favorites";  Capell,  "favorers."— J.  G. 

8 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  i. 

My  heart  for  anger  burns ;  I  cannot  brook  it.  GO 
K.  Hen.  Be  patient,  gentle  Earl  of  Westmore- 
land. 
Clif.  Patience  is  for  poltroons,  such  as  he: 

He  durst  not  sit  there,  had  your  father  lived. 

My  gracious  lord,  here  in  the  i^arliament 

Let  us  assail  the  family  of  York. 
Noj'th.  Well  hast  thou  spoken,  cousin:  be  it  so. 
K.  Hen.  Ah,  know  you  not  the  city  favors  them, 

And  they  have  troops  of  soldiers  at  their  beck? 
Ea:e,  But  when  the  duke  is  slam,  they  '11  quickly 

fly. 

K,  Hen.  Far  be  the  thought  of  this  from  Henry's 
heart,  *70 

To  make  a  shambles  of  the  parliament-house  I 
Cousin  of  Exeter,  frowns,  words  and  threats 
Shall  be  the  war  that  Henry  means  to  use. 
Thou    factious    Duke    of   York,    descend   my 

throne, 
And  kneel  for  grace  and  mercy  at  my  feet ; 
I  am  thy  sovereign. 
York.  I  am  thine. 

Ecve.  For  shame,  come  down:  he  made  thee  Duke 

of  York. 
York.  'Twas  my  inheritance,  as  the  earldom  was. 

62.  "poltroons,  such  as  he";  F.  1,  "PoiiUroones,  such  as  he";  Ff. 
2,  3,  "Poitltroones,  and  such  is  he";  F.  4,  "Poltroons,  and  such  w 
he";  Capell,  "poltroons,  and  such  as  he" — I.  G. 

70.  "Far  be  the  thought  of  this  from  Henry's  heart";  Capell  (from 
Qq.),  "Far  be  it  from  the  thoughts  of  Ilenrt/s  heart."— 1.  G. 

76.  "/  am  thine";  Howe,  "Henry,  I  am  thine";  Theobald  (from 
Qq.),  "Thou'rt  deceiv'd,  I'm,  thine."— I.  G. 

78.  "The  earldom  was/'  i.  e.  the  earldom  of  March,  by  which  he 
claimed  tlie  throne;  Theobald   (from  Qq.),  "The   kingdom  is." 

9 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Eive.  Thy  father  was  a  traitor  to  the  crown. 
War,  Exeter,  thou  art  a  traitor  to  the  crown,      80 

In  following  this  usurping  Henry. 
Clif.  Whom  should  he  follow  but  his  natural  king? 
War,  True,  ChfFord;  and  that 's  Richard  Duke  of 

York. 
K.  Hen.  And  shall  I  stand,  and  thou  sit  in  my 

throne  ? 
York,  It  must  and  shall  be  so :  content  thyself. 
War.  Be  Duke  of  Lancaster;  let  him  be  king. 
West.  He  is  both  king  and  Duke  of  Lancaster; 
And   that   the   Lord   of   Westmoreland   shall 
maintain. 
War.  And  Warwick  shall  disprove  it.     You  for- 
get. 
That  we  are  those  which  chased  you  from  the 
field,  90 

And  slew  your  fathers,  and  with  colors  spread 
^larch'd  through  the  city  to  the  palace  gates. 
North.  Yes,  Warwick,  I  remember  it  to  my  grief; 
And,  by  his  soul,  thou  and  thy  house  shall  rue  it. 
West.  Plantagenet,  of  thee  and  these  thy  sons, 
Thy  kinsmen  and  thy  friends,  I  '11  have  more 

lives 
Than  drops  of  blood  were  in  my  father's  veins. 
Clif.  Urge  it  no  more;  lest  that,  instead  of  words, 
I  send  thee,  Warwick,  such  a  messenger 
As  shall  revenge  his  death  before  I  stir.         100 
War.  Poor  Clifford!  how  I   scorn  his  worthless 
threats ! 

83.  "and  that's,"  the  reading  of  Ff.  2,  3,  4;  F.  1,  "that's";  Qq.» 
"and  that  is";  Collier,  "that  is" 

10 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  L 

York.  Will  you  we  show  our  title  to  the  crown? 

If  not,  our  swords  shall  plead  it  in  the  field. 
K,  Hen.  What    title    hast    thou,    traitor,    to    the 
crown  i 
Thy  father  was,  as  thou  art,  Duke  of  York; 
Thy  grandfather,  Roger  3iortimer,   Earl  of 

March: 
I  am  the  son  of  Henry  the  Fifth, 
Who  made  the  Daxiphin  and  the  French  to 

stoop, 
And  seized  upon  their  towns  and  provinces. 
War.  Talk  not  of  France,  sith  thou  hast  lost  it  all. 

105.  "Thy  father";  "Thy,"  Rowe's  correction  (from  Qq.)  of  Ff., 
"My";  "father";  Capeil  conj.  "uncle."— I.  G. 

It  will  be  renicinbered  tliat  his  fatlier  was  7iot  duke  of  York, 
but  earl  of  Cambridge,  and  tliat  even  that  title  was  forfeited,  leav- 
ing the  present  duke  plain  Richard  Plantagenet,  until  he  was  ad- 
vanced by  the  present  king.  Accordingly,  Exeter  has  said,  a  few 
lines  before, — "He  viude  thee  duke  of  York."  So  that  here  we 
have  another  discre])ancy,  and  that  not  in  different  plays  or  scenes, 
but  in  dilTerent  parts  of  the  same  scene. — H.  N.  H. 

110.  "Sith,"  since;  a  contraction  of  silhcnce. — The  fallowing  ex- 
tracts from  the  Chronicles  will  show  tlie  historical  basis  of  these 
proceedings.  "During  the  time  of  this  parlement,  the  duke  of  Yorke 
with  a  bold  countenance  entered  into  the  cliauiber  of  tlie  peeres, 
and  sat  downe  in  the  throne  roiall,  under  the  cloth  of  estate,  which 
is  the  kings  peculiar  seat,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  nobilitie,  as 
well  spirituall  as  temporall,  after  a  pause  made,  he  began  to  de- 
clare his  title  to  the  ciowne."  llien  follows  the  speech  which  York 
was  said  to  have  made,  after  which  the  chroniclers  add, — "When 
the  duke  had  made  an  end  of  his  oration,  tlie  lords  sat  still  as 
men  striken  into  a  certeine  amazedncsse,  neitiier  whispering  nor 
speaking  foorth  a  word,  as  though  their  mouthes  had  been  sowed 
up.  The  duke,  not  verie  well  content  with  their  silence,  advised 
them  to  consider  throughlie,  and  ponder  the  whole  effect  of  his 
words  and  saiengs;  and  so  neitiier  fullie  displeased,  nor  yet  alto- 
gither  content,  departed  to  his  lodgings  in  the  kings  palace.  ITie 
lords  forgot  not  the  dukes  demand,  and,  to  take  some  direction 
therein,  diverse  of  them  as  spirituall  and  temporall,  with  manie  grave 
and  sage  persons  of  tlie  coramonaltie,  dailie  assembled  at  the  Blacke- 

Shk-1-2!)  j2 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

K,  Hen.  The  lord  protector  lost  it,  and  not  I :  HI 
.When  I  was  crown'd  I  was  but  nine  months 
old. 
Rich,  You   are   old   enough   now,   and  yet,   me- 
thinks,  you  lose. 
Father,   tear   the   crown    from   the   usurj^er's 
head. 
Edw.  Sweet  father,  do  so;  set  it  on  your  head. 
3Iont.  Good  brother,  as  thou  lovest  and  honorest 
arms, 
Let 's  fight  it  out  and  not  stand  cavihng  thus. 
Rich.  Sound  drums  and  trumpets,  and  the  king 

will  fly. 
York.  Sons,  peace! 
K.  Hen.  Peace,  thou!  and  give  King  Henry  leave 

to  speak. 
War,  Plantagenet    shall    speak    first:    hear    him, 
lords;  ^^^ 

And  be  you  silent  and  attentive  too. 
For  he  that  interrupts  him  shall  not  live. 
K.  Hen.  Think'st  thou  that  I  will  leave  my  kingly 
throne, 
Wherein  my  grandsire  and  my  father  sat? 
No:  first  shall  war  unpeople  this  my  realm; 
Ay,  and  their  colors,  often  borne  in  France, 
And  now  in  England  to  our  heart's  great  sor- 
row, 

friers  and  other  places,  to  treat  of  this  matter.  During  which  time 
the  duke  of  Yorke,  although  he  and  the  king  were  both  lodged 
in  the  palace  of  Westminster,  would  not  for  anie  praiers  or  re- 
quests once  visit  the  king,  till  some  conclusion  were  taken  in  this 
matter;  saieng  that  he  was  subject  to  no  man,  but  only  to  God, 
under  whose  mercie  none  here  superiour  but  he." — H.  N.  H. 

12 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I  Sc.  i. 

Shall  be  my  winding-sheet.     Why  faint  you, 
lords  ? 

My  title  's  good,  and  better  far  than  his.      130 
War.  Prove  it,  Henry,  and  thou  shalt  be  king. 
K.  Hen.  Henry  the  Fourth  by  conquest  got  the 

crown. 
York,  'Twas  by  rebellion  against  his  king. 
K.  Hen.   [Adde]   I  know  not  what  to  say;  my 
title  's  weak. 

Tell  me,  may  not  a  king  adopt  an  heir? 
York.  What  then? 
K.  Hen.  An  if  he  may,  then  am  I  lawful  king; 

For  Richard,  in  the  view  of  many  lords, 

Resign'd  the  crown  to  Henry  the  Fourth, 

Whose  heir  my  father  was,  and  I  am  his.     140 
York.  He  rose  against  him,  being  his  sovereign, 

And  made  him  to  resign  his  crown  perforce. 
War.  Suppose,  my  lords,  he  did  it  unconstrain'd, 

Think  you  'twere  prejudicial  to  his  crown? 
Ea^e.  No;  for  he  could  not  so  resign  his  crown 

But  that  the  next  heir  should  succeed  and  reign. 
K.  Hen.  Art  thou  against  us,  Duke  of  Exeter? 
Eire.  His  is  the  right,  and  therefore  pardon  me. 
York.  Why  whisper  you,  my  lords,  and  answer 

not? 
Ecve.  My  conscience  tells  me  he  is  lawful  king.  150 
K.  Hen.  [Aside]  All  will  revolt  from  m.e,  and  turn 

to  him. 
North.  Plantagenet,  for  all  the  claim  thou  lay'st, 

144.  "his  crown";  Johnson,  "his  son";  Dr.  Percy  pointed  out  that 
Richard  II  had  no  son;  Capell  (from  Qq.),  "the  crown";  Vaughan, 
"his  line";  Wordsworth,  "the   throne."— I.  G. 

13 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Think  not  that  Henry  shall  be  so  deposed. 
War.  Deposed  he  shall  be,  in  despite  of  all. 
North.  Thou  art  deceived:  'tis  not  thy  southern 
power, 
Of  Essex,  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  nor  of  Kent, 
Which    makes    thee    thus    presumptuous    and 

proud. 
Can  set  the  duke  up  in  despite  of  me. 
Clif.  King  Henry,  be  thy  title  right  or  wrong, 
Lord  Clifford  vows  to  fight  in  thy  defense:  160 
May  that  ground  gape  and  swallow  me  alive, 
Where  I  shall  kneel  to  him  that  slew  my  father  I 
K.  Hen.  O   Clifford,  how  thy  words  revive  my 

heart ! 
York.  Henry  of  Lancaster,  resign  thy  crown. 

What  mutter  you,  or  what  conspire  you,  lords? 
War.  Do  right  unto  this  princely  Duke  of  York, 
Or  I  will  fill  the  house  with  armed  men, 
And  over  the  chair  of  state,  where  now  he  sits. 
Write  up  his  title  with  usurping  blood. 
[He  stamps  with  his  foot,  and  the  Soldiers 

show  themselves. 
K.  Hen.  My  Lord  of  Warwick,  hear  me  but  one 
word : 
Let  me  for  this  my  life-time  reign  as  king.    171 
York.  Confirm  the  crown  to  me  and  to  mine  heirs, 
And  thou  shalt  reign  in  quiet  while  thou  livest. 
King.  I  am  content:  Richard  Plantagenet, 
Enjoy  the  kingdom  after  my  decease. 

171.  "for  this  my  life-time  reign  as  king,"  the  reading  of  F.  1; 
Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "for  this  time,"  &c.;  Theobald  (from  Qq.)»  "^ut  reign  in 
quiet,  while  I  live." — I.  G. 

14 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Clif,  What  wrong  is  this  unto  the  prince  your  son! 

War.  Wliat  good  is  this  to  England  and  himself! 

West.  Base,  fearful  and  despairing  Henry! 

Clif.  How  hast  thou  injured  both  thyself  and  us! 

West.  I  cannot  stay  to  hear  these  articles.  180 

North.  Nor  I. 

Clif,  Come,  cousin,  let  us  tell  the  queen  these  news. 

West.  Farewell,     faint-hearted     and     degenerate 
king. 
In  whose  cold  blood  no  spark  of  honor  bides. 

North.  Be  thou  a  prey  unto  the  house  of  York, 
And  die  in  bands  for  this  unmanly  deed! 

Clif.  In  dreadful  war  mayst  thou  be  overcome. 
Or  live  in  peace  abandon'd  and  despised! 

[Eojeunt  North.,  Cliff,,  and  West. 

War.  Turn  this  way,  Henry,  and  regard  them  not. 

Ea^e.  They  seek  revenge  and  therefore  will  not 
yield.  190 

K.  Hen.  Ah,  Exeter! 

War.  Why  should  you  sigh,  my  lord? 

K.  Hen.  Not  for  myself,  Lord  Warwick,  but  my 
son. 
Whom  I  unnaturally  shall  disinherit. 
But  be  it  as  it  may :  I  here  entail 
The  crown  to  thee  and  to  thine  heirs  for  ever; 
Conditionally,  that  here  thou  take  an  oath 
To  cease  this  civil  war,  and,  whilst  I  live, 
To  honor  me  as  thy  king  and  sovereign. 
And  neither  by  treason  nor  hostility 
To  seek  to  put  me  down  and  reign  thyself.  200 

York.  This  oath  I  Millingly  take  and  will  perform, 


15 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

War.  Long  live  King  Henry!  Plantagenet,  em- 
brace him. 
K.  Hen.  And  long  live  thou  and  these  thy  forward 

sons ! 
York.  Now  York  and  Lancaster  are  reconciled. 
Ecce,  Accursed  be  he  that  seeks  to  make  them  foes ! 

[Seniiet.    Here  they  come  down. 
York,  Farewell,   my   gracious   lord;    I  '11   to   my 

castle. 
JVar.  And  I  '11  keep  London  with  my  soldiers. 
Norf.  And  I  to  Norfolk  with  my  followers. 
Mont.  And  I  unto  the  sea  from  whence  I  came. 

\Exeu7it  York  and  his  Sons,  Warwick, 
Norfolk,  Montague,  their  Soldiers, 

and  Attendants. 

205.  The  terms  of  this  compromise  are  thus  given  in  Hall  and 
Holinshed:  "After  long  debating  of  the  matter  amongest  the  peeres, 
prelats,  and  commons,  upon  the  vigill  of  All-saints  it  was  conde- 
scended, for  so  much  as  king  Henrie  had  beene  taken  as  king  by 
the  space  of  thirtie  and  eight  yeares  and  more,  that  he  should  injoy 
the  name  and  title  of  king,  and  have  possession  of  the  realme  during 
his  naturall  life.  And  if  he  either  died,  or  resigned,  or  forfeited 
the  same  by  breaking  or  going  against  anie  point  of  this  concord, 
then  the  said  crowne  and  authoritie  roiall  should  immediately  be 
devoluted  and  come  to  the  duke  of  Yorke,  if  he  then  lived;  or  else 
to  the  next  heire  of  his  linage.  And  that  the  duke  of  Yorke  from 
thense  foorth  should  be  protectour  and  regent  of  the  land.  This 
agreement,  put  in  articles,  was  ingrossed,  sealed,  and  sworne  unto 
by  the  two  parties,  and  also  enacted  in  the  parlement.  For  joy 
whereof  the  king,  having  in  his  companie  the  duke  of  Yorke,  rode 
to  the  cathedrall  church  of  saint  Paule  in  London,  and  there  on  the 
day  of  All-saints  with  the  crowne  on  his  head  went  solemnlie  in 
procession,  and  was  lodged  a  good  space  in  the  bishops  palace,  neere 
to  the  said  church.  And  upon  the  Saturdaie  next  insuing,  Richard 
duke  of  Yorke  was  by  sound  of  trumpet  solemnlie  proclaimed  heire 
apparent  to  the  crowne  of  England,  and  protectour  of  the  realme." 
All-saints  day  is  November  1. — H.  N.  H. 

206.  Sandal  Castle,  near  Wakefield,  in  Yorkshire. — H.  N.   H. 

16 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

K,  Hen.  And  I,  with  grief  and  sorrow,  to  the 
court.  "-^^0 

Enter  Queen  Margaret  and  the  Prince  of  Wales, 

Ecce.  Here  conies  the  queen,  whose  looks  bewrajr 
her  anger : 
I  '11  steal  away. 

K.  Hen.  Exeter,  so  will  I. 

Q.  Mar.  Nay,  go  not  from  me;  I  will  follow  thee. 

K,  Hen.  Be  patient,  gentle  queen,  and  I  will  stay. 

Q.  Mar.  Who  can  be  patient  in  such  extremes? 
All,  wretched  man!  would  I  had  died  a  maid. 
And  never  seen  thee,  never  borne  thee  son. 
Seeing  thou  hast  proved  so  unnatural  a  father  I 
Hath  he  deserved  to  lose  his  birthright  thus  ? 
Hadst  thou  but  loved  him  half  so  well  as  I,  220 
Or  felt  that  pain  which  I  did  for  him  once. 
Or  nourish'd  him  as  I  did  with  my  blood. 
Thou  wouldst  have  left  thy  dearest  heart-blood 

there. 
Rather  than  have  made  that  savage  duke  thine 

heir. 
And  disinherited  thine  only  son. 

Frince.  Father,  you  cannot  disinherit  me: 
If  you  be  king,  why  should  not  I  succeed? 

K.  Hen.  Pardon  me,  Margaret;  pardon  me,  sweet 
son: 
The  Earl  of  Warwick  and  the  duke  enforced 
me. 

Q.  Mar.  Enforced  thee!  art  thou  king,  and  wilt 
be  forced?  230 

211.  "Bewray"  is  an  old  form  of  betray,  meaning  to  discover. — 
H.  N.  H. 

17 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

I   shame  to  hear  thee   speak.     Ah,   timorous 

wretch ! 
Thou  hast  midone  thyself,  thy  son,  and  me ; 
And  given  unto  the  house  of  York  such  head, 
As  thou  shalt  reign  but  by  their  sufferance. 
To  entail  him  and  his  heirs  unto  the  crown. 
What  is  it,  but  to  make  thy  sepulcher. 
And  creep  into  it  far  before  thy  time? 
Warwick  is  chancellor  and  the  lord  of  Calais; 
Stern  Falconbridge  commands  the  narrow  seas; 
The  duke  is  made  protector  of  the  realm;    240 
And  yet  shalt  thou  be  safe?  such  safety  finds 
The  trembling  lamb  en\aroned  with  wolves. 
Had  I  been  there,  which  am  a  silly  woman. 
The  soldiers  should  have  toss'd  me  on  their  pikes, 
Before  I  would  have  granted  to  that  act. 
But  thou  pref err'st  thy  life  before  thine  honor : 

239.  This  was  Thomas,  natural  son  of  William  Nevil  Lord  Fal- 
conbridge, who  was  uncle  to  Warwick  and  Montague.  This  Thomas 
Nevil,  says  Hall,  was  "a  man  of  no  lesse  corage  than  audacitie, 
who  for  his  cruel  condicions  was  such  an  apte  person,  that  a  more 
meter  could  not  be  chosen  to  set  all  the  world  in  a  broyle,  and  to 
put  the  estate  of  the  realme  on  an  ill  hazard."  He  had  been  ap- 
pointed by  Warwick  vice  admiral  of  the  sea,  and  had  in  charge  so 
to  keep  the  passage  between  Dover  and  Calais,  that  none  which  either 
favored  King  Henry  or  his  friends  should  escape  untaiven  or  un- 
drowned:  such  at  least  were  his  instructions  with  respect  to  the 
friends  and  favorers  of  King  Edward  after  the  rupture  between 
him  and  Warwick.  On  Warwick's  death  he  fell  into  poverty,  and 
robbed,  both  by  sea  and  land,  as  well  friends  as  enemies.  He  once 
brought  his  slu'ps  up  the  Thames,  and  with  a  considerable  body  of 
the  men  of  Kent  and  Essex,  made  a  spirited  assault  on  the  city,  with 
a  view  to  plunder  and  pillage,  which  was  not  repelled  but  after  a 
sharp  conflict,  and  the  loss  of  many  lives;  and,  had  it  happened  at 
a  more  critical  period,  might  have  been  attended  with  fatal  conse- 
quences to  Edward.  After  roving  on  the  sea  some  little  time  longer, 
he  ventured  to  land  at  Southampton,  where  he  was  taken  and  be- 
headed.—H.  N.  H. 

18 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

And  seeing  thou  dost,  I  here  divorce  myself 
Both  from  thy  table,  Henry,  aild  thy  bed. 
Until  that  act  of  parliament  be  rej^eal'd, 
Whereby  my  son  is  disinherited.  250 

The   northern   lords   that   have    forsworn   thy 

colors 
Will  follow  mine,  if  once  they  see  them  spread ; 
And  spread  they  shall  be,  to  thy  foul  disgrace 
And  utter  ruin  of  the  house  of  York. 
Thus  do  I  leave  thee.     Come,  son,  let 's  away ; 
Our  army  is  ready ;  come,  we  '11  after  them. 
K.  Hen.  Stay,    gentle    Margaret,    and    hear    me 

speak. 
Q.  31  ar.  Thou  hast  spoke  too  much  already:  get 

thee  gone. 
K.  Hen.  Gentle  son  Edward,  thou  wilt  stay  with 

me? 
Q.  3Iar.  Aye,  to  be  murder'd  by  his  enemies.    260 
Prince.  When  I  return  with  victory  from  the  field 

I  '11  see  your  grace :  till  then  I  '11  follow  her. 
Q.  Mar.  Come,  son,  away;  we  may  not  linger  thus. 
[Ecveunt  Queen  Margaret  and  the  Pnnce. 
K.  Hen.  Poor  queen!  how  love  to  me  and  to  her 
son 
Hath  made  her  break  out  into  terms  of  rage ! 
Revenged  may  she  be  on  that  hateful  duke. 
Whose  haughty  spirit,  winged  with  desire. 
Will  cost  my  crown,  and  like  an  empty  eagle 

261.  "from,"  the  reading  of  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  and  Qq.;  F.  1,  "to."— I.  G. 

268.  "cost,"  so  Ff.;  Hanmer,  "truss";  Warburton,  "coast,"  i.  e. 
"watch  and  follow,  or  hover  round";  Steevcns,  "cote";  Jackson, 
"coure';  Dyce,  "some."  Warburton's  emendation  is  generally 
adopted  by  modern  editors. — I.  G. 

19 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  TPIIRD  PART  OF 

Tire  on  the  flesh  of  me  and  of  my  son ! 
The   loss   of   those   three   lords   torments   my 
heart:  270 

I  '11  write  unto  them  and  entreat  them  fair. 
Come,  cousin,  j'^ou  shall  be  the  messenger. 
Ea:e.  And  I,  I  hope,  shall  reconcile  them  all. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  II 

Sandal  Castle. 

Enter  Richard,  Edward,  Montague. 

'Rich.  Brother,  though  I  be  youngest,  give  me  leave. 
Edw.  No,  I  can  better  play  the  orator. 

269.  To  "lire"  is  to   tear,  to   feed  like  a  bird  of  prey;   from  the 
Anglo-Saxon  tirian.     Thus  in  the  Poet's  Venus  and  Adonis: 

"Even  as  an  empty  eagle,  sharp  by  fast. 
Tires  with  her  beak  on  feathers,  flesh,  and  bone." — H.  N.  H. 

270.  That  is,  of  Northumberland,  Westmoreland,  and  Clifford,  who 
had  left  him  in  disgust. 

272.  "Cousin";  Henry  Holland,  the  present  duke  of  Exeter,  was 
cousin  german  to  the  king,  his  grandfather,  John  Holland,  earl  of 
Huntingdon  and  duke  of  Exeter  in  the  time  of  Richard  II,  having 
married  Elizabeth  Plantagenet,  daughter  to  John  of  Ghent  by  his 
first  wife.  The  earldom  of  Huntingdon  was  his  inheritance,  and 
he  was  created  duke  of  Exeter  in  1444,  at  the  same  time  that 
Suffolk  was  made  marquess.  His  grandfather,  the  first  earl  of 
Huntingdon  in  that  line,  was  half-brother  to  Richard  H,  being  son 
to  Joan  the  Fair  Maid  of  Kent  by  her  first  husband,  Sir  Thomas 
Holland.  He  was  made  duke  of  Exeter  by  King  Richard  in  1397, 
his  brother  Thomas  and  Henry  of  Bolingbroke  being  at  Ae  same 
time  made  dukes  of  Surrey  and  Hereford;  but,  being  a  fast  friend 
to  Richard,  he  was  deprived  of  that  title  in  1399,  soon  after  Boling- 
broke mounted  the  throne;  and,  being  engaged  in  the  first  conspiracy 
against  that  king,  was  taken  and  beheaded  the  next  year.  However, 
his  son  John,  the  second  earl  of  Huntingdon,  was  in  favor  with 
Henry  V,  and  was  with  him  in  France. — H.  N.  H, 

20 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Mont.  But  I  have  reasons  strong  and  forcible. 
Enter  the  Duke  of  York. 

York.  Why,  how  now,  sons  and  brother!  at  a  strife? 

What  is  your  quarrel?  how  began  it  first? 
Edtc.  No  quarrel,  but  a  sHght  contention. 
York.  About  what? 

Rich.  About  that  which  concerns  your  grace  and 
us; 

The  crown  of  England,  father,  which  is  yours. 
York.  Mine,  boy?  not  till  King  Henry  be  dead.  10 
Rich.  Your  right  depends  not  on  his  life  or  death. 
Ediv.  Now  you  are  heir,  therefore  enjoy  it  now: 

By   giving  the  house   of   Lancaster   leave   to 
breathe,  * 

It  will  outrun  you,  father,  in  the  end. 
York.  I  took  an  oath  that  he  should  quietly  reign. 
Edw.  But  for  a  kingdom  any  oath  may  be  broken : 

I  would  break  a  thousand  oaths  to  reign  one 
year. 
Rich.  No;  God  forbid  your  grace  should  be  for- 
sworn. 
York.  I  shall  be,  if  I  claim  by  open  war. 
Rich.  I  '11  prove  the  contrary,  if  you  '11  hear  me 

speak. 
York.  Thou  canst  not,  son;  it  is  impossible.        21 
Rich.  An  oath  is  of  no  moment,  being  not  took 

Before  a  true  and  lawful  magistrate, 

That  hath  authority  over  him  that  swears: 

Hemy  had  none,  but  did  usurp  the  place; 

16.  "ami";  Dyce,  "an."   (?)   "But  for  a  kingdom  may  an  oath  be 
broken."— I.  G. 

21 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Then,  seeing  'twas  he  that  made  you  to  depose, 
Your  oath,  my  lord,  is  vain  and  frivolous. 
Therefore,  to  arms!     And,  father,  do  but  think 
How  sweet  a  thing  it  is  to  wear  a  crouii ; 
Within  whose  circuit  is  Elysium,  30 

And  all  that  poets  feign  of  bliss  and  joy. 
Why  do  we  linger  thus  ?  I  cannot  rest 
Until  the  white  rose  that  I  wear  be  dyed 
Even  in  the  lukewarm  blood  of  Henry's  heart. 
York.  Richard,  enough ;  I  will  be  king,  or  die. 
Brother,  thou  shalt  to  London  presently, 
And  whet  on  Warwick  to  this  enterprise. 
Thou,  Richard,  shalt  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
And  tell  him  privily  of  our  intent. 
You,  Edward,  shall  unto  my  Lord  Cobham,  40 
With  whom  the  Kentishmen  will  willingly  rise : 
In  them  I  trust;  for  they  are  soldiers, 
Witty,  courteous,  liberal,  full  of  spirit. 
While  you  are  thus  employ'd,  what  resteth  more, 
But  that  I  seek  occasion  how  to  rise. 
And  yet  the  king  not  privy  to  my  drift. 
Nor  any  of  the  house  of  Lancaster? 

.Enter  a  Messenger. 

27.  The  obligation  of  an  oath  is  here  eluded  by  a  very  despica- 
ble sophistry.  A  lawful  magistrate  alone  has  the  power  to  exact 
an  oath,  but  the  oath  derives  no  part  of  its  force  from  the  magis- 
trate. The  plea  against  the  obligation  of  an  oath  obliging  to  main- 
tain a  usurper,  (taken  from  the  unlawfulness  of  tiie  oath  itself,) 
in  the  foregoing  play,  was  rational  and  just  (Johnson). — H.  N.  H. 

38.  "shalt  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk";  the  reading  of  Ff.  1,  2,  3; 
F.  4,  "shalt  be  D.  of  N";  Rowe,  "shall  go  to  the  D.  of  N.";  Pope, 
"shalt  to  th'  D.  of  N.  go";  Steevens,  "shalt  unto  the  D.  of  N."; 
Vaughan,  "shalt  straight  to  the  D.  of  N."—l.  G. 

40.  "Lord  Cobham";  Hanmer,  "Lord  of  Cobham."— I.  G. 

48.  The   folio    reads    "Enter    Gabriel."     It   was   the   name    of   the 

22 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

But,  stay:  what  news?     Why  comest  thou  in 

such  post? 
Mess,  The  queen  with  all  the  northern  earls  and 

lords 
Intend  here  to  besiege  you  in  your  castle:       50 
She  is  hard  by  with  twenty  thousand  men ; 
And  therefore  fortify  your  hold,  my  lord. 
York.  Aye,  with  my  sword.     What!  think'st  thou 

that  we  fear  them? 
Edward  and  Richard,  you  shall  stay  with  me; 
My  brother  INIontague  shall  post  to  London: 
Let  noble  Warwick,  Cobham,  and  the  rest. 
Whom  we  have  left  protectors  of  the  king, 
With  powerful   policy  strengthen  themselves, 
And  trust  not  simple  Henry  nor  his  oaths. 

actor,  probably   Qabriel  Singer,  who  played  this   insignificant  part. 
The  emendation  is  from  the  quarto. — H.  N.   H. 

59.  From  the  hollow  reconciliation  of  the  foregoing  scene,  both 
parties  went  directly  to  preparing  for  war.  The  preliminaries  to 
the  battle  of  "Wakefield,  which  followed  soon  after,  are  thus  deliv- 
ered in  the  Chronicles:  "The  duke  of  Yorke,  well  knowing  that  the 
queene  would  spurne  against  all  this,  caused  both  hir  and  hir  sonne 
to  be  sent  for  by  the  king.  But  she,  as  woont  rather  to  rule  than 
be  ruled,  not  onelie  denied  to  come,  but  assembled  a  great  armie, 
intending  to  take  the  king  by  force  out  of  the  lords  hands.  The 
protectour  in  London,  having  knowledge  of  all  these  dooings,  as- 
signed the  duke  of  Norffolke,  and  erle  of  Warwick,  his  trustie 
freends,  to  be  about  the  king,  whiles  he  with  the  carles  of  Salisburie 
and  Rutland,  and  a  convenient  number,  departed  out  of  London  the 
second  dale  of  December  northward,  and  appointed  the  earle  of 
March,  his  eldest  sonne,  to  follow  him  with  all  his  power.  The  duke 
came  to  his  castell  of  Sandall  beside  Wakefield  on  Christmasse  eeven, 
and  there  began  to  make  muster  of  his  tenants  and  freends.  The 
queene,  thereof  ascerteined,  determined  to  cope  with  him  yer  his 
succour  were  come.  Having  in  hir  companie  the  prince  hir  sonne, 
the  dukes  of  Excester  and  Summerset,  the  lord  Clifford,  and  in 
effect  all  the  lords  of  the  north  parts,  with  eighteene  thousand  men, 
she  marched  from  Yorke  to  Wakefield,  and  bad  base  to  the  duke. 


28 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Mont.  Brother,  I  go;  I  '11  win  them,  fear  it  not:  60 
And  thus  most  humbly  I  do  take  my  leave. 

[Exit. 

Enter  Sir  John  Mortimer  and  Sir  Hugh  Mortimer. 

York.  Sir  John  and  Sir  Hugh  Mortimer,  mine 
uncles, 
You  are  come  to  Sandal  in  a  happj^  hour ; 
The  army  of  the  queen  means  to  besiege  us. 
Sir  John.  She  shall  not  need;  we  '11  meet  her  in  the 

field. 
York.  What,  wuth  five  thousand  men? 
Rich.  Aye,  with  five  hundred,  father,  for  a  need : 
A  woman's  general;  what  should  we  fear? 

[A  march  afar  off. 
Edw.  I  hear  their  drums :  let 's  set  our  men  in  or- 
der, 70 
And  issue  forth  and  bid  them  battle  straight. 
York.  Five  men  to  twenty!  though  the  odds  be 
great, 
I  doubt  not,  uncle,  of  our  victory. 
Many  a  battle  have  I  won  in  France, 
When  as  the  enemy  hath  been  ten  to  one : 
Why  should  I  not  now  have  the  like  success  ? 

[Alarum.     Exeunt. 

even  before  his  castell  gates." — Prince  Edward  was  at  that  time  in 
his  eighth  year,  having  been  born  October  13,  1453. — H.  N.  H. 


24i 


f 


i^ 


\ 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  iiL 

Scene  III 

Field  of  battle  betwiivt  Sandal  Castle  and 

Wakefield. 

Alarums.     Enter  Rutland  and  Ills  Tutor. 

Rut.  All,  whither  shall  I  fly  to  'scape  their  hands? 
Ah,  tutor,  look  where  bloody  Clifford  comes  I 

Enter  Clifford  and  Soldiers. 

Clif.  Chaplain,  away !  thy  priesthood  saves  thy  life. 

As  for  the  brat  of  this  accursed  duke, 

Whose  father  slew  my  father,  lie  shall  die. 
Tut.  And  I,  my  lord,  will  bear  him  company. 
Clif.  Soldiers,  away  with  him! 
Tut.  Ah,  Chff  ord,  murder  not  this  innocent  child, 

Lest  thou  be  hated  both  of  God  and  man ! 

[Eait,  dragged  off  by  Soldiers. 
Clif.  How  now !  is  he  dead  already  ?  or  is  it  fear    10 

That  makes  him  close  his  eyes?    I  '11  open  them. 
Rut.  So  looks  the  pent-up  lion  o'er  the  wretch 

That  trembles  under  his  devouring  paws ; 
J       And  so  he  walks,  insulting  o'er  his  prey, 

And  so  he  comes,  to  rend  his  limbs  asunder. 

Ah,  gentle  Chiford,  kill  me  with  thy  sword, 

And  not  with  such  a  cruel  threatening  look. 

Sweet  Clifford,  hear  me  speak  before  I  die. 

I  am  too  mean  a  subject  for  thy  wrath: 

"Enter  Rutland  and  his  Tutor."  Rutland  is  described  by  Halle  as 
"scarce  of  the  age  of  xii  yeares,  a  faire  gentleman  and  maidenlike 
person."  He  was  in  reality  seventeen.  The  "tutor's"  name  was  Rob- 
ert Aspall.— C.  H.  H. 

25 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Be  thou  revenged  on  men,  and  let  me  live.      20 
Clif.  In  vain  thou  speak'st,  poor  boy;  my  father's 
blood 

Hath  stopp'd  the  passage   where  thy  words 
should  enter. 
Rut.  Then  let  my  father's  blood  open  it  again : 

He  is  a  man,  and,  ChfFord,  cope  with  him. 
Clif.  Had  I  thy  brethren  here,  their  lives  and  thine 

Were  not  revenge  sufficient  for  me ; 

No,  if  I  digg'd  u})  thy  forefathers'  graves, 

And  hung  their  rotten  coffins  up  in  chains, 

It  could  not  slake  mine  ire,  nor  ease  my  heart. 

The  sight  of  any  of  the  house  of  York  30 

Is  as  a  fury  to  torment  my  soul; 

And  till  I  root  out  their  accursed  line 

And  leave  not  one  alive,  I  live  in  hell. 

Therefore —  [^Lifting  his  hand. 

Rut.  O,  let  me  pray  before  I  take  my  death ! 

To  thee  I  pray ;  sweet  Clifford,  pity  me ! 
Clif.  Such  pity  as  my  rapier's  point  affords. 
Rut.  I  never  did  thee  harm:  why  wilt  thou  slay  me? 
Clif.  Thy  father  hath. 
Rut.  But  'twas  ere  I  was  born. 

Thou  hast  one  son ;  for  his  sake  pity  me,         40 

Lest  in  revenge  thereof,  sith  God  is  just, 

He  be  as  miserably  slain  as  I. 

Ah,  let  me  live  in  prison  all  my  days; 

And  when  I  give  occasion  of  offense. 

Then  let  me  die,  for  now  thou  hast  no  cause. 
Clif.  No  cause! 

Thy  father  slew  my  father ;  therefore,  die. 

[Stabs  him 
26 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  I.  Sc.  iv. 

Rut.  Di  faciant  laudis  sumnia  sit  ista  iuml    [Dies, 
Clif,  Plantagenet!  I  come,  Plantagenet! 

And  this  thy  son's  blood  cleaving  to  my  l)lade  50 
Shall  rust  upon  my  weapon,  till  thy  blood, 
Congeal'd  with  tliis,  do  make  me  wipe  off  both. 

lEiiit. 

Scene  IV 

Another  part  of  the  field. 

Alarum.     Enter  Richard,  Duke  of  York. 

Ycyrk.  The  army  of  the  queen  hath  got  the  field : 
My  uncles  both  are  slain  in  rescuing  me; 
And  all  my  followers  to  the  eager  foe 

48.  "Di  faciant  laudis  summa  sit  ista  tuce";  i.  e.  "The  gods  grant 
that  this  be  the  sura  of  thy  glory";  (Ovid,  Epistle  from  Phillis  to 
Demophoon). — I.  G. 

This  scrap  of  Latin  appeared  first  in  the  folio;  but  as  Malone 
would  needs  argue  that  the  original  play  was  not  Shakespeare's,  from 
its  ha^^ng  several  Latin  quotations,  he  did  not  see  lit  to  adorn  this 
line  with  a  star. — This  savage  slaughter  of  Rutland  is  thus  re- 
lated by  Hall:  "Wliilst  this  battle  was  in  fighting,  a  priest  called 
Sir  Robert  Aspall,  chaplain  and  schoolmaster  to  the  young  earl 
of  Rutland,  perceiving  tiiat  flight  was  more  safeguard  tiian  tarry- 
ing, both  for  himself  and  his  master,  secretly  conveyed  the  earl 
out  of  the  field,  by  the  lord  Clifford's  band,  towards  the  town:  but 
ere  he  could  enter  into  a  house  he  was  by  the  said  lord  Clifford 
espied,  followed,  and  taken,  and  by  reason  of  his  apparel  demanded 
what  he  was.  The  young  gentleman,  dismayed,  had  not  a  word  to 
speak,  but  kneeled  on  his  knees  imploring  mercy,  and  desiring  grace, 
both  with  holding  up  his  hands  and  making  dolorous  countenance; 
for  liis  speech  was  gone  for  fear.  Save  him,  said  his  chaplain,  for 
he  is  a  prince's  son,  and  pcradventure  may  do  you  good  hereafter. 
With  that  word,  the  lord  Clifford  marked  him,  and  said,  By  God's 
blood,  thy  father  slew  mine,  and  so  I  will  do  thee  and  all  thy  kin: 
and  with  that  word  he  struck  the  earl  to  the  heart  with  his  dagger, 
and  bade  his  cliajilain  bear  tlie  earl's  mother  and  brother  word  what 
he  had  said  and  done." — H.  N.  H. 

27 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Turn  back  and  fly,  like  ships  before  the  wind, 
Or  lambs  pursued  by  hunger-starved  wolves. 
My  sons,  God  knows  what  hath  bechanced  them : 
But  this  I  know,  they  have  demean'd  themselves 
Like  men  born  to  renown  by  life  or  death. 
Three  times  did  Richard  make  a  lane  to  me, 
And  thrice  cried  'Courage,  father!  fight  it  out!' 
And  full  as  oft  came  Edward  to  mv  side,        H 
With  purple  falchion,  painted  to  the  hilt 
In  blood  of  those  that  had  encounter'd  him : 
And  when  the  hardiest  warriors  did  retire, 
Richard  cried,  'Charge!  and  give  no  foot  of 

ground !' 
And  cried,  'A  crown,  or  else  a  glorious  tomb ! 
A  scepter,  or  an  earthly  sepulcher!' 
With  this,  we  charged  again :  but,  out,  alas ! 
We  bodged  again ;  as  I  have  seen  a  swan 
With  bootless  labor  swim  against  the  tide        20 
And  spend  her  strength   with  over-matching 

waves.  [^i  short  alarum  within. 

Ah,  hark !  the  fatal  followers  do  pursue ; 
And  I  am  faint,  and  cannot  fly  their  fury: 
And  were  I  strong,  I  would  not  shun  their  fury : 
The  sands  are  number'd  that  make  up  my  life; 
Here  must  I  stay,  and  here  my  life  must  end. 

26,  The  stoiy  of  this  battle  is  thus  told  in  the  Chronicles:  "The 
duke  of  Summerset  and  the  queenes  part  appointed  the  lord  Clif- 
ford to  lie  in  one  stale,  and  the  earle  of  Wiltshire  in  another,  and 
the  duke  with  the  other  to  keepe  the  maine  battell.  The  duke  of 
Yorke  descended  downe  the  hill  in  good  order  and  arraie;  but  when 
he  was  in  the  plaine  betweene  his  castell  and  the  towne  of  Wake- 
field, he  was  invironed  on  everie  side,  like  fish  in  a  net,  so  that, 
though  he  fought  manfullie,  yet  was  he  within  halfe  an  houre  slaine, 
and  his  whole   armie  discomfited.     With   him  died  his  two   bastard 

28 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  l.  Sc.  iv. 

Enter  Queen  Margaret,  Clifford,  Northumberland, 
the  young  Prince,  and  Soldiers. 

Come,  bloody  Clifford,  rough  Northumberland, 
I  dare  your  quenchless  fury  to  more  rage: 
I  am  your  butt,  and  I  abide  your  shot. 

North.  Yield  to  our  mercy,  proud  Plantagenet.  30 

Clif.  Aye,  to  such  mercy  as  his  ruthless  arm, 

With    downright   payment,    show'd   unto   my 

father. 
Now  Phaethon  hath  tumbled  from  his  car, 
And  made  an  evening  at  the  noontide  prick. 

York.  JNIy  ashes,  as  the  phoenix,  ma}^  bring  forth 
A  bird  that  will  revenge  upon  you  all : 
And  in  that  hope  I  throw  mine  eyes  to  heaven. 
Scorning  whate'er  you  can  afflict  me  with. 
Why  come  you  not?  what!  multitudes,  and  fear? 

Clif.  So    cowards    fight    when    they    can    fly    no 
further ;  -iO 

So  doves  do  peck  the  falcon's  piercing  talons ; 
So  desperate  thieves,  all  hopeless  of  their  lives, 
Breathe  out  invectives  'gainst  the  officers. 

York.  O  Clifford,  but  bethink  thee  once  again, 
And  in  thy  thought  o'er-run  my  former  time; 
And,  if  thou  canst  for  blushing,  view  this  face, 
And  bite  thy  tongue,  that  slanders  him  with 

cowardice 
Whose  frown  hath  made  thee  faint  and  fly  ere 
this! 

uncles,  sir  John  and  sir  Hugh  Mortimei",  and  two  thousand  and 
eight  hundred  others,  whereof  manie  were  yoong  gentlemen,  and 
heirs  of  great  parentage  in  the  south  parts,  whose  kin  revenged  their 
deaths  within  four  months  next." — H.  N.  H. 

29 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Clif.  I  will  not  bandy  with  thee  word  for  word, 

But  buckle  with  thee  blows,  twice  two  for  one.  50 
Q.  Mar,  Hold,  valiant  Clifford!  for  a  thousand 
causes 
I  would  prolong  awhile  the  traitor's  life. 
Wrath  makes  him  deaf:  speak  thou,  Northum- 
berland. 
North.  Hold,  Clifford!  do  not  honor  him  so  much 
To  prick  thy  finger,  though  to  wound  his  heart : 
What  valor  were  it,  when  a  cur  doth  grin. 
For  one  to  thrust  his  hand  between  his  teeth. 
When  he  might  spurn  him  with  his  foot  away  ? 
It  is  war's  prize  to  take  all  vantages ; 
And  ten  to  one  is  no  impeach  of  valor.  60 

[They  lay  hands  on  York,  who  struggles. 
Clif.  Aye,  aye,  so  strives  the  woodcock  with  the 

gin. 
North.  So  doth  the  conj^  struggle  in  the  net. 
York.  So   triumph  thieves   upon  their   conquer'd 
booty ; 
So    true    men    yield,    with    robbers    so    o'er- 
match'd. 
North.  What  would  your  grace  have  done  unto  him 

now  ? 
Q.  Mar.  Brave  warriors,  Clifford  and  Northum- 
berland, 
Come,  make  him  stand  on  this  molehill  here. 
That   raught   at  mountains   with   outstretched 

arms. 
Yet  parted  but  the  shadow  with  his  hand. 
What!  was  it  you  that  would  be  England's 
king?  70 

30 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  iv. 

Was  't  you  that  revel'd  in  our  parliament, 
And  made  a  preachment  of  your  high  descent? 
Where  are  your  mess  of  sons  to  back  you  now? 
The  wanton  Edward,  and  the  lusty  George? 
And  where  's  that  valiant  crook-back  prodigy, 
Dicky  your  boy,  that  with  his  grumbling  voice 
Was  wont  to  cheer  his  dad  in  mutinies  ? 
Or,  with  the  rest,  where  is  your  darling  Rut- 
land ? 
Look,  York :  I  stain'd  this  napkin  with  the  blood 
That  valiant  Clifford,  with  his  rapier's  point,  BO 
Made  issue  from  the  bosom  of  the  boy ; 
And  if  thine  eyes  can  water  for  his  death, 
I  ffive  thee  this  to  dry  thy  cheeks  withal. 
Alas,  poor  York !  but  that  I  hate  thee  deadly, 
I  should  lament  thy  miserable  state. 
I  prithee,  grieve,  to  make  me  merry,  York. 
What,  hath  thy  fiery  heart  so  parch' d  thine  en- 
trails 
That  not  a  tear  can  fall  for  Rutland's  death? 
Why  art  thou  patient,  man?  thou  shouldst  be 

mad; 
And  I,  to  make  thse  mad,  do  mock  thee  thus.  90 
Stamp,  rave,  and  fret,  that  I  may  sing  and 

dance. 
Thou  wouldst  be   f  ee 'd,   I   see,  to  make   me 

sport : 
York  cannot  speak,  unless  he  wear  a  crown. 
A  crown  for  York !  and,  lords,  bow  low  to  him : 

73.  "mess  of  sons,"  four  sons;  the  company  at  great  dinners  being 
arranged  in  "messes"  or  sets  of  four. — C.  H.  H. 


31 


A<^t  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Hold  you  his  hands,  whilst  I  do  set  it  on. 

[Putt'mg  a  paper  crown  on  his  head. 
Aye,  marry,  sir,  now  looks  he  like  a  king ! 
Aye,  this  is  he  that  took  King  Henry's  chair; 
And  this  is  he  was  his  adopted  heir. 
But  how  is  it  that  great  Plantagenet 
Is  crown'd  so  soon,  and  broke  his  solemn  oath? 
As  I  bethink  me,  j^ou  should  not  be  king       101 
Till  our  King  Henry  had  shook  hands  with 

death. 
And  will  you  pale  your  head  in  Henry's  glory, 
And  rob  his  temples  of  the  diadem, 
Now  in  his  life,  against  your  holy  oath? 
O,  'tis  a  fault  too  too  unpardonable ! 
Off  with  the  crown;  and,  with  the  crown,  his 

head ; 
And,  whilst  we  breathe,  take  time  to  do  him 

dead. 

108.  The  piece  of  exquisite  inhumanity,  which  furnished  the  basis 
of  this  scene,  is  thus  narrated  in  the  Chronicles:  "The  same  lord 
Clifford  came  to  the  place  where  the  dead  corpse  of  the  duke  of 
Yorke  laie,  caused  his  head  to  be  striken  off,  and  set  on  it  a  crowne 
of  paper,  fixed  it  on  a  pole,  and  presented  it  to  the  queene,  not 
lieng  farre  from  the  field,  in  great  despite;  at  which  great  rejois- 
ing  was  showed:  but  they  laughed  then  that  shortlie  after  la- 
mented, and  were  glad  then  of  other  mens  deaths,  that  knew  not 
their  owne  to  be  so  neere  at  hand."  Thus  far  Holinshed  copies 
Hall,  and  then  adds  the  following:  "Som£  write  that  the  duke 
was  taken  alive,  and  in  derision  caused  to  stand  upon  a  molehill; 
on  whose  head  they  put  a  garland  in  steed  of  a  crowne,  which 
they  had  fashioned  and  made  of  sedges  or  bulrushes;  and,  having 
so  crowned  him,  they  kneeled  downe  afore  him,  as  the  Jewes  did 
unto  Christ,  in  scorne,  saieng  to  him, — 'Haile,  king  without  rule, 
haile,  king  without  heritage,  haile,  duke  and  prince  without  people 
or  possessions.'  And  at  leng-th,  having  thus  scorned  him  with  these 
and  diverse  other  the  like  despitefuU  words,  they  stroke  off  his  head, 
which  they  presented  to  the  queene."     It  should  be  remarked,  fur- 

32 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  iv. 

Clif.  That  is  my  office,  for  my  father's  sake. 

Q.  Mar,  Nay,    stay ;    let 's    hear    the    orisons    he 

makes.  H^ 

York.  She-wolf  of  France,  but  worse  than  wolves 

of  France, 

Whose  tongue  more  poisons  than  the  adder's 

tooth ! 
How  ill-beseeming  is  it  in  thy  sex 
To  triumph,  like  an  Amazonian  trull. 
Upon  their  woes  whom  fortune  cajitivates  I 
But  that  thy  face  is,  visard-Hke,  unchanging, 
JNlade  impudent  with  use  of  evil  deeds, 
I  would  assay,  proud  queen,  to  make  thee  blush. 
To  tell  thee  whence  thou  earnest,  of  whom  de- 
rived. 
Were  shame  enough  to  shame  thee,  wert  thou 
not  shameless.  1-0 

Thy  father  bears  the  type  of  King  of  Naples, 
Of  both  the  Sicils  and  Jerusalem, 
Yet  not  so  wealthy  as  an  English  yeoman. 
Hath  that  poor  monarch  taught  thee  to  insult  ? 
It  needs  not,  nor  it  boots  thee  not,  proud  queen, 
Unless  the  adage  must  be  verified. 
That  beggars  mounted  run  their  horse  to  death. 
'Tis  beauty  that  doth  oft  make  women  proud ; 
But,  God  He  knows,  thy  share  thereof  is  small : 
'Tis  virtue  that  doth  make  them  most  admired; 
The  contrary  doth  make  thee  wonder'd  at :     1^1 

ther,  that  Holinshed  took  this  account  from  Whetharastede,  who  was 
a  bitter  enemy  to  the  Lancastrians.     It  should  be  noted,  in  justice 
to  womanhood,  that  according  to  the  latter  account  the  queen  had 
no  part  in  the  blasphemous  mockery  of  the  living  duke. — H.  N.  H. 
109.  "sake";  CapeU   (from  Qq),  "death."— I.  G. 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

'Tis  government  that  makes  them  seem  divine; 

The  want  thereof  makes  thee  abominable; 

Thou  art  as  opposite  to  every  good 

As  the  Antipodes  are  unto  us, 

Or  as  the  south  to  the  septentrion. 

O  tiger's  heart  wrapp'd  in  a  woman's  hide ! 

How  couldst  thou  drain  the  hfe-blood  of  the 

child, 
To  bid  the  father  wipe  his  eyes  withal. 
And  yet  be  seen  to  bear  a  woman's  face?        140 
Women  are  soft,  mild,  pitiful  and  flexible ; 
Thou  stern,  obdurate,  flinty,  rough,  remorseless. 
Bid'st  thou  me  rage?  why,  now  thou  hast  thy 

wish: 
Wouldst  have  me  weep  ?  why,  now  thou  hast  thy 

will: 
For  raging  wind  blows  up  incessant  showers, 
And  when  the  rage  allays,  the  rain  begins. 
These  tears  are  my  sweet  Rutland's  obsequies : 
And  every  drop  cries  vengeance  for  his  death, 
'Gainst   thee,    fell    Clifl'ord,    and    thee,    false 

Frenchwoman. 
North.  Beshrew  me,  but  his  passion  moves  me  so  150 

That  hardly  can  I  check  my  eyes  from  tears. 
York.  That  face  of  his  the  hungry  cannibals 

150.  "passion  moves";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "passions  move";  F.  1,  "pas- 
sions moues." — I.  G. 

152,  153.  "That  face  of  his  the  hungry  cannibals  Would  not  have 
touch' d,  would  not  have  stain' d  with  blood";  Warburton's  arrange- 
ment (from  Qq.);  printed  as  three  lines  in  Ff.,  ending  his  .  .  . 
toucht  .  .  .  blood.  For  "tvith  blood"  Ff.  2,  3,  4  reads  "the  roses 
just  with  hlood!';  Theobald,  "the  roses  juic'd  with  blood";  Hanmer, 
"the  roses  just  i'  th'  hud";  Collier  MS.,  "the  rose's  hues  with  blood." 
—I.  G. 

34 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  i.  Sc.  iv. 

Would  not  have  touch'd,  would  not  have  stain'd 

with  blood : 
But  you  are  more  inhuman,  more  inexorable, 
O,  ten  times  more,  than  tigers  of  Ilyrcania. 
See,  ruthless  queen,  a  hapless  father's  tears: 
This  cloth  thou  dip'dst  in  blood  of  my  sweet  boy, 
And  I  with  tears  do  wash  the  blood  away. 
Keep  thou  the  napkin,  and  go  boast  of  this : 
And  if  thou  tell'st  the  heavy  story  right,        160 
Upon  my  soul,  the  hearers  will  shed  tears ; 
Yea,  even  my  foes  will  shed  fast-falling  tears. 
And  say,  'Alas,  it  M^as  a  piteous  deed  1' 
There,  take  the  crown,  and,  with  the  cro\\Ti,  my 

curse ; 
And  in  thy  need  such  comfort  come  to  thee 
As  now  I  reap  at  thy  too  cruel  hand! 
Hard-hearted  Clifford,  take  me  from  the  world : 
INIy  soul  to  heaven,  my  blood  upon  your  heads ! 

North.  Had  he  been  slaughter-man  to  all  my  kin, 
I  should  not  for  my  life  but  weep  with  him,     1^0 
To  see  how  inly  sorrow  gripes  his  soul. 

Q.  Mar.  What,  weeping-ripe,  my  Lord  Northum- 
berland ? 
Think'but  upon  the  wrong  he  did  us  all. 
And  that  will  quickly  dry  thy  melting  tears. 

CUf.  Here  's  for  my  oath,  here  's  for  my  father's 
death.         .  [Stabbing  him. 

Q.  Mar.  And  here  's  to  right  our  gentle-hearted 
king.  [Stabbing  1dm, 

York.  Open  Thy  gate  of  mercy,  gracious  God  I 

169.  "to  aU";  Capell  (from  Qq.),  "of  all."—l.  G. 
Slik-1-30  35 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

]My  soul  flies  through  these  wounds  to  seek  out 

Thee.  \_Dies. 

Q.  Mar.  Off  with  his  head,  and  set  it  on  York 

gates ; 

So  York  may  overlook  the  town  of  York.      180 

[Flourish.    Exeunt. 

180.  So  in  Holinshed:  "After  this  victorie,  the  earle  of  Salisburie 
and  all  the  prisoners  were  sent  to  Pomfret,  and  there  beheaded; 
whose  heads,  togither  with  the  duke  of  Yorkes  head,  were  con- 
veied  to  Yorke,  and  there  set  on  poles  over  the  gate  of  the  city." 
— All,  it  should  seem,  must  needs  agree  that  this  scene  is  one  of 
the  very  best  in  the  whole  play.  Its  logic  and  its  pathos  are  em- 
inently Shakespearean;  and  the  coloring  of  Margaret  bespeaks, 
throughout,  the  same  hand  which,  after  a  few  years  more  of  prac- 
tice, wrought  out  the  terrible  portrait  of  lady  Macbeth.  Yet  of 
the  180  lines  which  the  scene  contains,  only  26  were  altered  from 
the  quarto,  and  19  added  in  the  folio.  And  of  those  additions  15 
lines  are  in  York's  speech  at  the  beginning,  while  many  of  the 
alterations  are  of  a  very  trifling  kind,  such  as  the  following: 

Quarto.  "So  doves  do  peck  the  raven's  piercing  talons." 
Folio.  "So  doves  do  peck  the  falcon's  piercing  talons." 
Quarto.  "That  aim'd  at  mountains  with  outstretched  arm." 
Folio.  "That  raught  at  mountains  with  outstretched  arms." 
Quarto.  "Look,  York:  I  dipp'd  this  napkin  in  the  blood." 
Folio.  "Look,  York:  I  stain'd  this  napkin  with  the  blood." 
Quarto.  "Is  crown'd  so  soon,  and  broke  his  holy  oath." 
Folio.  "Is  crown'd  so  soon,  and  broke  his  solemn  oath." 

Moreover,  nearly  all  the  pith,  marrow,  and  spirit  of  the  scene  are 
in  the  quarto,  there  being  even  less  of  improvement  than  of  en- 
largement in  the  folio.  And  yet,  according  to  the  more  current 
notion,  of  this,  undoubtedly  the  most  Shakespearean  scene  but  one 
in  the  play,  only  19  lines  were  original  with  Shakespeare;  if,  in- 
deed, that  can  be  called  originality,  which  gives  no  new  thoughts, 
but  merely  amplifies  the  old.  And  Malone's  celebrated  argument 
was  to  vindicate  Shakespeare  from  the  reproach  of  having  written, 
into  the  honor  of  having  stolen,  the  161  lines  of  this  scene,  either 
taken  whole  or  slightly  altered  from  the  quarto! — H.  N.  H. 


36 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 


ACT  SECOND 
Scene  I 

A  plain  near  Mortimer  s  Cross  in  HerefordsJdre. 

A  march.     Enter  Edward,  Richard,  and 
their  power. 

Edw.  I  wonder  how  our  princely  father  'scaped, 
Or  whetlier  he  be  'scaped  away  or  no 
From  Chfford's  and  Northumberland's  pursuit. 
Had  he  been  ta'en,  we  should  have  heard  the 

news ; 
Had  he  been  slain,  we  should  have  heard  the 

news ; 
Or  had  he  'scaped,  methinks  we  should  have 

heard 
The  happy  tidings  of  his  good  escape. 
How  fares  my  brother  ?  why  is  he  so  sad  ? 
Kicli.  I  cannot  joy,  until  I  be  resolved 

Where  our  right  valiant  father  is  become.        10 

I  saw  him  in  the  battle  range  about; 

And  watch'd  him  how  he  singled  CliiFord  forth. 

!Methought  he  bore  him  in  the  thickest  troop 

As  doth  a  lion  in  a  herd  of  neat ; 

Or  as  a  bear,  encompass'd  round  with  dogs, 

14.  "Neat,"  says  Richardson,  "seems  properly  to  denote  horned 
cattle,  from  the  A.  S,  Unit-an,  cornu  petcre,  to  hutt  or  strike  with 
the  horn."—n.  N.  H. 

37 


Act  11.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Who  having  pinch'd  a  few  and  made  them  cry, 
The  rest  stand  all  aloof,  and  bark  at  him. 
So  fared  our  father  with  his  enemies ; 
So  fled  his  enemies  my  warlike  father : 
Methinks,  'tis  prize  enough  to  be  his  son.  20 

See  how  the  morning  opes  her  golden  gates, 
And  takes  her  farewell  of  the  glorious  sun ! 
How  well  resembles  it  the  prime  of  youth, 
Trimm'd  like  a  younker  prancing  to  his  love ! 

Edw.  Dazzle  mine  eyes,  or  do  I  see  three  suns? 

Rich.  Three  glorious  suns,  each  one  a  perfect  sun; 
Not  separated  with  the  racking  clouds, 
But  sever'd  in  a  pale  clear-shining  sky. 
See,  see!  they  join,  embrace,  and  seem  to  kiss. 
As  if  they  vow'd  some  league  inviolable :  30 

Now  are  they  but  one  lamp,  one  light,  one  sun. 
In  this  the  heaven  figures  some  event. 

Edw.  ^Tis  wondrous  strange,  the  like  yet  never 
heard  of. 
I  think  it  cites  us,  brother,  to  the  field. 
That  we,  the  sons  of  brave  Plantagenet, 
Each  one  already  blazing  by  our  meeds. 
Should    notwithstanding   join    our    lights    to- 
gether, 

20.  "Methinks,  'tis  prize  enough  to  be  his  son";  Ff.;  Warburton 
(from  Qq.),  "pride."— I.  G. 

32.  The  battle  of  Mortimer's  Cross  took  place  February  3,  1461, 
and  the  event  of  the  text  is  spoken  of  by  the  chroniclers  as  having 
happened  on  the  morning  of  that  day:  "At  which  time  the  sunne, 
as  some  write,  appeared  to  the  earle  of  March  like  three  sunnes, 
and  suddenlie  joined  altogither  in  one.  Upon  which  sight  he  tooke 
such  courage,  that  he  fiercelie  setting  on  his  enemies  put  them  to  flight: 
and  for  this  cause  men  imagined,  that  he  gave  the  sunne  in  his  full 
brightnesse  for  his  badge  or  cognizance." — H.  N.  H. 

38 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

And  over-shine  the  earth  as  this  the  world. 
Whate'er  it  bodes,  henceforward  will  I  bear 
Upon  my  target  three  fair-shining  suns.  -lO 

Fich.  Nay,  bear  three  daughters:  by  your  leave  I 
speak  it. 
You  love  the  breeder  better  than  the  male. 

Enter  a  Messenger, 

But  what  art  thou,  whose  heavy  looks  foretell 
Some  dreadful  story  hanging  on  thy  tongue  ? 

Mess,  Ah,  one  that  was  a  woful  looker-on 
When  as  the  noble  Duke  of  York  was  slain, 
Your  princely  father  and  my  loving  lord! 

Edw,  O,  speak  no  more,  for  I  have  heard  too  much. 

Eich.  Say  how  he  died,  for  I  will  hear  it  all. 

Mess,  Environed  he  was  with  many  foes,  50 

And  stood  against  them,  as  the  hope  of  Troy 
Against  the  Greeks  that  would  have  entered 

Troy. 
But  Hercules  himself  must  yield  to  odds ; 
And  many  strokes,  though  with  a  little  axe. 
Hew  down  and  fell  the  hardest-timber'd  oak. 
By  many  hands  your  father  was  subdued ; 
But  only  slaughter'd  by  the  ireful  arm 
Of  unrelenting  Clifford  and  the  queen, 
Who  crown'd  the  gracious  duke  in  high  despite, 
Laugh'd  in  his  face;  and  when  with  grief  he 

wept. 
The  ruthless  queen  gave  him  to  dry  his  cheeks  61 
A  napkin  steeped  in  the  harmless  blood 
Of  sweet  young  Rutland,  by  rough  Clifford 
slain: 

39 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

And  after  many  scorns,  many  foul  taunts. 
They  took  his  head,  and  on  the  gates  of  York 
They  set  the  same ;  and  there  it  doth  remain, 
The  saddest  spectacle  that  e'er  I  view'd. 
Edw.  Sweet  Duke  of  York,  our  prop  to  lean  upon, 
Now  thou  art  gone,  we  have  no  staff,  no  stay. 
O  Clifford,  boisterous  Clifford!  thou  hast  slain 
The  flower  of  Europe  for  his  chivalry ;  71 

And  treacherously  hast  thou  vanquish'd  him. 
For  hand  to  hand  he  would  have  vanquish'd  thee. 
Now  my  soul's  palace  is  become  a  prison : 
Ah,  would  she  break  from  hence,  that  this  my 

body 
Might  in  the  ground  be  closed  up  in  rest ! 
For  never  henceforth  shall  I  joy  again. 
Never,  O  never,  shall  I  see  more  joy! 
Rich.  I  cannot  weep ;  for  all  my  body's  moisture 
Scarce  serves  to  quench  my  furnace-burning 

heart :  80 

Nor  can  my  tongue  unload  my  heart's  great 

bui'then ; 
For  selfsame  wind  that  I  should  speak  withal 
Is  kindling  coals  that  fires  all  my  breast, 
And  burns  me  up  with  flames  that  tears  would 

quench. 
To  weep  is  to  make  less  the  depth  of  grief: 
Tears  then  for  babes;  blows  and  revenge  for 

me! 
Richard,  I  bear  thy  name ;  I  '11  venge  thy  death. 
Or  die  renowned  by  attempting  it. 
Edw.  His  name  that  valiant  duke  hath  left  with 

thee: 

40 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  i. 

His  dukedom  and  his  chair  with  me  is  left.    90 
Rich.  Nay,  if  thou  he  that  princely  eagle's  hird, 
Show  thy  descent  by  gazing  'gainst  the  sun : 
For  chair  and  dukedom,  throne  and  kingdom 

say; 
Either  that  is  thine,  or  else  thou  wert  not  his. 

March.     Enter  Warwick,  Marquess  of  Montague, 

and  their  army. 

War.  How  now,  fair  lords!     What   fare?  what 

news  abroad? 
Rich.  Great  Lord  of  Warwick,  if  we  should  re- 
count 
Oui*  baleful  news,  and  at  each  word's  deliver- 
ance 
Stab  poniards  in  our  flesh  till  all  were  told, 
The  words  would  add  more  anguish  than  the 
wounds. 

0  valiant  lord,  the  Duke  of  York  is  slain!      100 
Edw.  O  Warwick,  Warwick!  that  Plantagenet, 

Which  held  thee  dearly  as  his  soul's  redemption, 
Is  by  the  stern  Lord  Clifford  done  to  death. 
War.  Ten  days  ago  I  drown'd  these  news  in  tears; 
And  now,  to  add  more  measure  to  j'our  woes, 

1  come  to  tell  you  things  sith  then  bef  all'n. 
After  the  bloody  fray  at  Wakefield  fought. 
Where  your  brave  father  breathed  his  latest 

gasp. 
Tidings,  as  swiftly  as  the  posts  could  run. 
Were  brought  me  of  your  loss  and  his  depart. 
I,  then  in  London,  keeper  of  the  king,  m 

3Iuster'd  my  soldiers,  gather'd  flocks  of  friends, 

41 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

And  very  well  appointed,  as  I  thought, 
March'd  toward  Saint  Alhan's  to  intercept  the 

queen, 
Bearing  the  king  in  my  behalf  along; 
For  by  my  scouts  I  was  advertised, 
That  she  was  coming  with  a  full  intent 
To  dash  our  late  decree  in  parliament. 
Touching  King  Henry's  oath  and  your  succes- 
sion. 
Short  tale  to  make,  we  at  Saint  Alban's  met,  120 
Our    battles    join'd,    and    both    sides    fiercely 

fought : 
But  whether  'twas  the  coldness  of  the  king, 
Who  look'd  full  gently  on  his  warlike  queen. 
That  robb'd  my  soldiers  of  their  heated  spleen; 
Or  whether  'twas  report  of  her  success ; 
Or  more  than  common  fear  of  CliiFord's  rigor. 
Who  thunders  to  his  captives  blood  and  death, 
I  cannot  judge:  but,  to  conclude  with  truth, 
Their  weapons  like  to  lightning  came  and  went ; 
Our  soldiers',  like  the  night-owl's  lazy  flight,  130 
Or  like  an  idle  thresher  with  a  flail, 
Fell    gently    down,    as    if   they    struck    their 

friends. 
I  cheer'd  them  up  with  justice  of  our  cause. 
With  promise  of  high  pay  and  great  rewards: 
But  all  in  vain ;  they  had  no  heart  to  fight, 
And  we  in  them  no  hope  to  win  the  day ; 
So  that  we  fled;  the  king  unto  the  queen; 

113.  Omitted  in  Ff.,  added  by  Steevens  (from  Qq.).— I.  G. 
131.  "idle,"   CapeU's    emendation    (from    Qq.)    of    Ff.,    "lazy."— 
I.  G. 

4-2 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Lord  George  your  brother,  Norfolk  and  my- 
self, 
In  haste,  post  haste,  are  come  to  join  with  you; 
For  in  the  marches  here  we  heard  you  were,   1-iO 
Making  another  head  to  fight  again. 
Edw.  Where  is  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  gentle  War- 
wick ? 
And  when  came  George   from  Burgundy  to 
England? 
War,  Some  six  miles  off  the  duke  is  with  the  sol- 
diers; 
And  for  your  brother,  he  was  lately  sent 
From  your  kind  aunt.  Duchess  of  Burgundy, 
With  aid  of  soldiers  to  this  needful  war. 
Rich.  ^Twas  odds,  belike,  when  valiant  Warwick 
fled: 

141.  The  second  battle  of  St.  Albans,  of  whicli  Warwick  here 
tells  the  story,  took  place  February  17,  1461.  The  account  is  for 
the  most  part  historically  true.  Of  course  it  will  be  understood  that 
the  king  was  at  that  time  in  the  keeping  of  those  who  were  really 
fighting  against  him,  though  nominally  with  his  sanction;  and  the 
effect  of  the  battle  was  to  release  him  from  their  hands,  and  restore 
him  to  his  friends,  who  under  the  leading  of  the  queen  were  seeking 
to  break  up  the  compromise  that  had  been  forced  through  in  the 
late  parliament.  The  course  and  issue  of  the  fight  are  thus  de- 
scril)ed  in  the  Chronicles:  "These  (the  Yorkists)  gave  the  onset  so 
fiercelie  at  the  beginning,  that  the  victorie  rested  doubtfuli  a  cer- 
teine  time;  but  after  they  had  stood  it  a  pretie  while  they  began  to 
faint,  and,  turning  their  backes,  lied  amaine  over  hedge  and  ditch, 
through  thick  and  thin,  woods  and  bushes,  seeking  to  escape  the 
hands  of  their  cruell  enimies,  that  followed  them  with  eger  minds, 
to  make  slaughter  upon  them,  and  bare  downe  manie,  and  more  had 
doone,  if  the  night  comming  on  had  not  stayed  them." — H.  N.  H. 

146.  "Your  kind  aunt,  Duchess  of  Burannchj,"  i.  e.  Isabel,  daughter 
of  John  I,  King  of  Portugal,  by  Philippa  of  Lancaster,  eldest 
daughter  of  John  of  Gaunt;  she  was,  therefore,  really  third  cousin 
to  Edward,  and  not  aunt. — I.  G. 

147.  This  is  slightly  at  variance  with  fact.     York's  sons,  George 

43 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Oft  have  I  heard  his  praises  in  pursuit, 
But  ne'er  till  now  his  scandal  of  retire.  150 

War.  Nor  now  my  scandal,  Richard,  dost  thou 

hear ; 
For  thou  shalt  know  this  strong  right  hand  of 

mine 
Can   pluck   the   diadem   from   faint   Henry's 

head, 
And  wring  the  awful  scepter  from  his  fist, 
Were  he  as  famous  and  as  bold  in  war, 
As  he  is  famed  for  mildness,  peace,  and  prayer. 
Rich.  I  know  it  well.  Lord  Warwick;  blame  me 

not: 
'Tis  love  I  bear  thy  glories  makes  me  speak. 
But  in  this  troublous  time  what 's  to  be  done? 
Shall  we  go  throw  away  our  coats  of  steel,    160 
And  wrap  our  bodies  in  black  mourning  gowns. 
Numbering  our  Ave-Maries  with  our  beads? 
Or  shall  we  on  the  helmets  of  our  foes 
Tell  our  devotion  with  revengeful  arms? 
If  for  the  last,  say  aye,  and  to  it,  lords. 
War.  Why,  therefore  Warwick  came  to  seek  you 

out; 
And  therefore  comes  my  brother  ^lontague. 
Attend  me,  lords.     The  proud  insulting  queen. 
With  Clifford  and  the  haught  Northumberland, 
And  of  their  feather  many  moe  proud  birds,  170 
Have  wrought  the  easy-melting  king  like  wax. 

and  Richard,  the  one  being  then  in  his  twelfth  year,  the  other  in 
his  ninth,  were  sent  into  Flanders  immediately  after  the  battle  of 
Wakefield,  and  did  not  return  till  Edward  had  taken  the  crown.— 
H.  N.  H. 

44 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II  Sc.  i. 

He  swore  consent  to  your  succession, 
His  oath  enrolled  in  the  parliament ; 
And  now  to  London  all  the  crew  are  gone, 
To  frustrate  both  his  oath  and  what  beside 
May  make  against  the  house  of  Lancaster. 
Their  power,  I  think,  is  thirty  thousand  strong: 
Now,  if  the  he\p  of  Norfolk  and  myself, 
With  all  the  friends  that  thou,  brave  Earl  of 

March,  179 

Amongst  the  loving  Welshmen  canst  procure. 
Will  but  amount  to  five  and  twenty  thousand. 
Why,  Via!  to  London  wdll  we  march  amain. 
And  once  again  bestride  our  foaming  steeds, 
And  once  again  cry  'Charge  upon  our  foes!' 
But  never  once  again  turn  back  and  fly. 
Rich.  Aye,  now  methinks  I  hear  great  Warwick 

speak : 
Ne'er  may  he  live  to  see  a  sunshine  day, 
That  cries  'Retire,'  if  Warwick  bid  him  stay. 
Edw.  Lord  Warwick,  on  thy  shoulder  will  I  lean; 
And   when   thou    fail'st — as    God    forbid   the 

hour ! — 
Must   Edward   fall,   which   peril  heaven   for- 

fend!  191 

War.  No  longer   Earl  of  JNIarch,  but  Duke  of 

York : 
The  next  degree  is  England's  royal  throne; 
For  King  of  England  shalt  thou  be  proclaim'd 

182.  "to  London  will  we  march  amain";  Theobald's  emendation 
(from  Qq.);  Ff-  read  "to  London  will  we  march";  Ilanmer,  "straight 
to  London  will  we  march." — I.  G. 

190.  "fail'st";  Steevens,  "fail'st";  Qq.,  "faints."— I.  G. 

45 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

In  every  borough  as  we  pass  along; 
And  he  that  throws  not  uj)  his  cap  for  joy 
Shall  for  the  fault  make  forfeit  of  his  head. 
King  Edward,  valiant  Richard,  Montague, 
Stay  we  no  longer,  dreaming  of  renown, 
But  sound  the  trumpets,  and  about  our  task.  200 

Rich,  Then,  CliiFord,  were  thy  heart  as  hard  as 
steel. 
As  thou  hast  shown  it  flinty  by  thy  deeds, 
I  come  to  pierce  it,  or  to  give  thee  mine. 

Edw.  Then    strike    up    drums:    God    and    Saint 
George  for  us! 

Enter-  a  Messenger. 

War.  How  now!  what  news? 
Mess.  The  Duke  of  Norfolk  sends  you  word  by 
me, 
The  queen  is  coming  with  a  puissant  host ; 
And  craves  your  company  for  speedy  counsel. 
War.  Why  then  it  sorts,  brave  warriors,  let 's  away. 

[Eoceunt, 

Scene  II 

Before  York 

Flourish,  Enter  King  Henry,  Queen  ^largaret^ 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  Clifford,  and  Northum- 
herland,  with  drum  and  trumpets. 

Q.  Mar.  Welcome,  my  lord,  to  this  brave  town  of 
York. 

209.  "it  sorts"  things  are  as  they  should  be;  it  falls  but  right.— 
H.  N.  H, 

46 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  Ii.  Sc.  ii. 

Yonder  's  the  head  of  that  arch-enemy 

That    sought    to    be    encompass'd    with    your 

crown : 
Doth  not  the  object  cheer  your  heart,  my  lord? 

K,  Hen.  Aye,  as  the  rocks  cheer  them  that  fear 
their  wreck: 
To  see  this  sight,  it  irks  my  very  soul. 
Withhold  revenge,  dear  God!  'tis  not  my  fault, 
Nor  wittingly  have  I  infringed  my  vow. 

Clif.  My  gracious  liege,  this  too  much  lenity 

And  harmful  pity  must  be  laid  aside.  10 

To  whom  do  lions  cast  their  gentle  looks? 
Not  to  the  beast  that  w^ould  usurp  their  den. 
Whose  hand  is  that  the  forest  bear  doth  lick? 
Not  his  that  spoils  her  young  before  her  face. 
Who  'scapes  the  lurking  serpent's  mortal  sting? 
Not  he  that  sets  his  foot  upon  her  back. 
The  smallest  worm  will  turn  being  trodden  on, 
And  doves   will  peck  in  safeguard  of  their 

brood. 
Ambitious  York  did  level  at  thy  crown, 
Thou  smiling  while  he  knit  his  angry  brows :  20 
He,  but  a  duke,  would  have  his  son  a  king. 
And  raise  his  issue,  like  a  loving  sire ; 
Thou,  being  a  king,  blest  with  a  goodly  son, 
Didst  yield  consent  to  disinherit  him, 
Which  argued  thee  a  most  unloving  father. 
Unreasonable  creatures  feed  their  young; 
And  though  man's  face  be  fearful  to  their  eyes, 
Yet,  in  protection  of  their  tender  ones, 
Who  hath  not  seen  them,  even  with  those  wings 

47 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

(Which  sometime  they  have  used  with  fearful 
flight,  30 

JNIake  war  with  him  that  chmb'd  unto  their  nest, 
Offering  their  own  Hves  in  their  young's  de- 
fense ? 
For  shame,  my  hege,  make  them  your  prece- 
dent! 
Were  it  not  pity  that  this  goodly  boy 
Should  lose  his  birthright  by  his  father's  fault, 
And  long  hereafter  say  unto  his  child, 
'What  my  great-grandfather  and  grandsire  got 
My  careless  father  fondly  gave  away'? 
Ah,  what  a  shame  were  this !    Look  on  the  boy ; 
And  let  his  manly  face,  which  promiseth         40 
Successful  fortune,  steel  thy  melting  heart 
To  hold  thine  own,  and  leave  thine  own  with 
him. 
K,  Hen.  Full  weU  hath  Clifford  play'd  the  orator, 
Inferring  arguments  of  mighty  force. 
But,  Clifford,  tell  me,  didst  thou  never  hear 
That  things  ill-got  had  ever  bad  success  ? 
And  happy  always  was  it  for  that  son 
Whose  father  for  his  hoarding  went  to  hell? 
I  '11  leave  my  son  my  virtuous  deeds  behind ; 
And  would  my  father  had  left  me  no  more !    50 
For  all  the  rest  is  held  at  such  a  rate 
As  brings  a  thousand-fold  more  care  to  keep 
Than  in  possession  any  jot  of  pleasure. 
Ah,  cousin  York!  would  thy  best  friends  did 
know 

47-48.  cp.  Greene's  Royal  Exchange  .-—"It  hath  lieen  an  old  proverb, 
that  happy  is  that  son  whose  father  goes  to  the  devil,"  &c. — I.  G. 

48 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

How  it  doth  grieve  me  that  thy  head  is  here ! 
Q.  Mar.  My  lord,  cheer  up  your  spirits:  our  foes 
are  nigh, 

Aiid  this  soft  courage  makes  your  followers 
faint. 

You  i^romised  knighthood  to  our  forward  son: 

Unsheathe  your  sword,  and  dub  him  presently. 

Edward,  kneel  down.  ^^ 

K.  Hen.  Edward  Plantagenet,  arise  a  knight; 

And  learn  this  lesson,  draw  thy  sword  in  right. 
Prince.  My  gracious  father,  by  your  kingly  leave, 

I  '11  draw  it  as  apparent  to  the  crown, 

And  in  that  quarrel  use  it  to  the  death. 
Clif.  Why,  that  is  spoken  like  a  toward  prince. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Royal  commanders,  be  in  readiness : 
For  with  a  band  of  thirty  thousand  men 
Comes  Warwick,  backing  of  the  Duke  of  York ; 
And  in  the  towns,  as  they  do  march  along,       70 
Proclaims  him  king,  and  many  fly  to  him 
Darraign  your  battle,  for  they  are  at  hand. 

CUf.  I  would  your  highness  would  depart  the  field: 
The  queen  hath  best  success  when  you  are  ab- 
sent. 

Q.  Mar.  Aye,  good  my  lord,  and  leave  us  to  our 
fortune. 

74.  So  in  Holinshcd:  "Thus  was  the  queene  fortunate  in  hir  two 
btUtels,  but  unfortunate  was  the  king  in  all  his  enterpri.scs;  for 
where  his  person  was  present  the  victorie  still  fled  from  him  to  the 
contrarie  part.  The  queene  caused  the  king  to  dub  hlr  sor.nc  prince 
Edward  knight,  willi  thirtie  other  pcrsions,  which  the  day  before 
fought  on  hir  side  against  his  part." — H.  N.  H. 

49 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

K.  Hen.  Why,  that's  my  fortune  too;  therefore 

I  '11  stay. 
North.  Be  it  with  resolution  then  to  fight. 
Prince.  My  royal  father,  cheer  these  noble  lords, 
And  hearten  those  that  fight  in  your  defense: 
Unsheathe  your  sword,  good  father;  cry  'Saint 
George  r  80 

March.    Enter  Edward,  George,  Richard,  War- 
wick, Norfolk,  Montague,  and  Soldiers. 

Edw.  Now,  perjured  Henry!  wilt  thou  kneel  for 
grace. 
And  set  thy  diadem  upon  my  head; 
Or  bide  the  mortal  fortune  of  the  field? 

Q.  Mar.  Go,  rate  thy  minions,  proud  insulting  boy ! 
Becomes  it  thee  to  be  thus  bold  in  terms 
Before  thy  sovereign  and  thy  lawful  king? 

Edti.\  I  am  his  king,  and  he  should  bow  his  knee; 
I  was  adopted  heir  by  his  consent : 
Since  when,  his  oath  is  broke ;  for,  as  I  hear, 
You,  that  are  king,  though  he  do  wear  the 

crown. 
Have  caused  him,  by  new  act  of  parliament,    91 
To  blot  out  me,  and  put  his  own  son  in. 

Clif.  And  reason  too: 

Who  should  succeed  the  father  but  the  son? 

Rich.  Are  you  there,  butcher?    O,  I  cannot  speak! 

Clif.  Aye,  crook-back,  here  I  stand  to  answer  thee, 
Or  any  he  the  proudest  of  thy  sort. 

89.  This  of  course  refers  to  the  late  compromise  or  agreement, 
which  was  "sioorne  unto  by  the  two  parties."  In  the  folio,  this  and 
the  three  following  lines  are  assigned  to  Clarence;  but  the  words,  "to 
blot  out  me,"  show  that  they  were  meant  to  be  a  part  of  Edward's 
speech. — H.  N.  H. 

50 


KIISTG  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

Rich.  'Twas  you  that  kill'd  young  Rutland,  was  it 

not? 
Clif.  Aye,  and  old  York,  and  yet  not  satisfied. 
Rich,  For  God's  sake,  lords,   give  signal  to  the 
fight.  100 

War.  What  say'st  thou,  Henry,  wilt  thou  yield  the 

crown  ? 
Q.  Mar,  Why,  how  now,  long-tongued  Warwick! 
dare  you  speak? 
When  you  and  I  met  at  Saint  Alban's  last, 
Your  legs  did  better  service  than  your  hands. 
War.  Then  'twas  my  turn  to  fly,  and  now  'tis  thine. 
Clif.  You  said  so  much  before,  and  yet  you  fled. 
Wa7\  ■'Twas  not  your  valor,   Clifford,  drove  me 

thence. 
North.  No,  nor  your  manhood  that  durst  make  you 

stay. 
Rich.  Northumberland,  I  hold  thee  reverently. 
Break  off  the  parley ;  for  scarce  I  can  refrain 
The  execution  of  my  big-swoln  heart  m 

Upon  that  Clifford,  that  cruel  child-killer. 
Clif.  I  slew  thy  father,  call'st  thou  him  a  child? 
Rich.  Aye,  hke  a  dastard  and  a  treacherous  coward, 
As  thou  didst  kill  our  tender  brother  Rutland; 
But  ere  sunset  I  '11  make  thee  curse  the  deed. 
K.  Hen.  Have  done  with  words,  my  lords,  and  hear 

me  speak. 
Q.  Mar.  Defy  them  then,  or  else  hold  close  thy  lips. 
K.  Hen.  I  prithee,  give  no  limits  to  my  tongue: 

I  am  a  king,  and  privileged  to  S])eak.  120 

Clif.  My  hege,  the  wound  that  bred  this  meeting 
here 

51 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Cannot  be  cured  by  words ;  therefore  be  still. 

Rich.  Then,  executioner,  unsheathe  thy  sword: 
By  Him  that  made  us  all,  I  am  resolved 
That  ChfFord's  manhood  Hes  upon  his  tongue. 

Edw.  Say,  Henry,  shall  I  have  my  right,  or  no? 
A  thousand  men  have  broke  their  fasts  to-day. 
That  ne'er  shall  dine  unless  thou  yield  the  crown. 

War.  If  thou  deny,  their  blood  upon  thy  head; 
For  York  in  justice  puts  his  armor  on.  130 

Prince.  If  that  be  right  which  Warwick  says  is 
right, 
There  is  no  wrong,  but  every  thing  is  right. 

Rich.  Whoever  got  thee,  there  thy  mother  stands; 
For,  well  I  wot,  thou  hast  thy  mother's  tongue. 

Q.  3Iar.  But  thou  art  neither  hke  thy  sire  nor  dam; 
But  like  a  foul  mis-shapen  stigmatic, 
Mark'd  by  the  destinies  to  be  avoided. 
As  venom  toads,  or  lizards'  dreadful  stings. 

Rich.  Iron  of  Naples  hid  with  English  gilt. 

Whose  father  bears  the  title  of  a  king, —        140 
As  if  a  channel  should  be  call'd  the  sea, — 
Shamest  thou  not,  knowing  whence  thou  art  ex- 

traught. 
To  let  thy  tongue  detect  thy  base-born  heart? 

Edw.  A  wisp  of  straw  were  worth  a  thousand 
crowns, 
To  make  this  shameless  callet  know  herself. 
Helen  of  Greece  was  fairer  far  than  thou, 

134.  In  the  folio  this  speech  is  assigned  to  Warwick,  in  the  quarto 
to  Richard,  The  queen's  reply  shows  that  the  quarto  is  right. — 
H.  N.  H. 

144.  "A  wisp  of  straw"  was  set  as  an  ignominious  badge  on  the 
head  of  scolds.— C.  H.  H. 

52 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  ii. 

Although  thy  husband  may  be  ]Menelaus ; 
And  ne'er  was  Agamemnon's  brother  wrong'd 
By  that  false  woman,  as  this  king  by  thee. 
His  father  revel'd  in  the  heart  of  France,    150 
And  tamed  the  king,  and  made  the  dauphin 

stoop ; 
And  had  he  match'd  according  to  his  state. 
He  might  have  kept  that  glory  to  this  day; 
But  when  he  took  a  beggar  to  his  bed, 
And  graced  thy  poor  sire  with  his  bridal-day. 
Even  then  that  sunshine  brew'd  a  shower  for 

him. 
That   wash'd   liis    father's   fortunes    forth   of 

France, 
And  heap'd  sedition  on  his  crown  at  home. 
For  what  hath  broach'd  this  tumult  but  thy 

pride? 
Hadst  thou  been  meek,  our  title  still  had  slept ; 
And  we,  in  pity  of  the  gentle  king,  161 

Had  slipp'd  our  claim  until  another  age. 
Geo.  But  when  we  saw  our  sunshine  made  thy 
spring, 
And  that  thy  summer  bred  us  no  increase. 
We  set  the  axe  to  thy  usurping  root ; 
And  though  the  edge  hath  something  hit  our- 
selves. 
Yet,  know  thou,  since  we  have  begun  to  strike, 
We  '11  never  leave  till  we  have  hewn  thee  do^\^l, 
Or  bathed  thy  growing  Avith  our  heated  bloods. 

147.  "Althouffh  ihy  husband  may  be  Menelaus,"  cp.  Troihis  and 
Cressida,  V.  i.  61,  wliere  Thersites  calls  jNIenelaus  "the  primitive  statue 
and  oblique  memorial  of  cuckolds." — I.  G. 

53 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Edw.  And,  in  this  resolution,  I  defy  thee ;  170 

Not  wiUing  any  longer  conference, 
Since  thou  deniest  the  gentle  king  to  speak. 
Sound  trumpets!  let  our  bloody  colors  wave! 
And  either  victory,  or  else  a  grave. 

Q.  Mar.  Stay,  Edward. 

Edw.  No,  wrangling  woman,  we  '11  no  longer  stay : 
These  words  will  cost  ten  thousand  lives  this  day. 

[Exeunt, 

Scene  III 

A  field  of  tattle  between  Towton  and  Saxton, 

in  Yorkshire. 

Alarum.     E occur sions.     Enter  Warwick. 

War.  Forspent  with  toil,  as  runners  with  a  race, 
I  lav  me  down  a  little  while  to  breathe ; 
For  strokes  received,  and  many  blows  repaid. 
Have  robb'd  my  strong-knit  sinews  of  their 
strength, 

172.  "deniest,"  Warburton's  correction  (from  Qq.) ;  Ff.  1,  2, 
"denied'st";  Ff.  3,  4,  "deni'dst."—!.  G. 

177.  "these";  Capell  (from  Qq.),  "thy."— I.  G. 

Scene  III,  Yorkshire.  Soon  after  the  second  battle  of  St.  Albans, 
Edward,  coming  fresh  from  his  victory  at  Mortimer's  Cross,  united 
his  forces  with  those  under  Warwick  and  Montague,  and  marched 
straight  to  London,  which  he  knew  was  altogether  of  his  faction. 
A  few  days  later,  a  great  council  being  held,  it  was  resolved  that 
Henry,  by  joining  the  queen's  forces,  had  broken  the  late  compact, 
and  forfeited  the  crown  to  Edward,  the  heir  to  Richard  late  duke  of 
York.  Edward  then  made  harangues  to  the  people,  who  with  shouts 
and  acclamations  ratified  the  sentence  of  the  council;  whereupon 
he  was  proclaimed  king.  This  was  done  March  4,  1461.  The  12th 
of  the  same  montii  he  started  northward  with  a  large  army,  in- 
tending to  finish  the  war   at   one   stroke.     The   immediate   prelimi- 

54 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  m. 

And  spite  of  spite  needs  must  I  rest  awhile. 
Enter  Edivard,  running. 

Edw.  Smile,   gentle   heaven!   or   strike,   ungentle 

death ! 
For  this  world  frowns,  and  Edward's  sun  is 

clouded. 
War.  How  now,  my  lord !  what  hap  ?  what  hope  of 

good? 

Enter  George. 

Geo.  Our  hap  is  loss,  our  hope  but  sad  despair; 
Our  ranks  are  broke,  and  ruin  follows  us :        10 
Wliat  counsel  give  you?  whither  shall  we  fly? 

Edw.  Bootless  is  flight,  they  follow  us  with  wings; 
And  weak  we  are  and  cannot  shun  pursuit. 

Enter  Richard. 

Rich.  Ah,  Warwick,  whv  hast  thou  withdrawn  thy- 

self? 
Thy  brother's  blood  the  thirsty  earth  hath  drunk, 
Broach'd  wdth  the  steely  point  of   Cliff*ord's 

lance ; 
And  in  the  very  pangs  of  death  he  cried. 
Like  to  a  dismal  clangor  heard  from  far, 
'Wanvick,  revenge!  brother,  revenge  my  death!' 

nariec  to  the  action  of  the  following  scene  are  thus  given  in  Holin- 
shed:  "His  armie  and  all  things  prepared,  he  departed  out  of  Lon- 
don the  twelfe  dale  of  March,  and  by  easie  journies  came  to  the 
castell  of  Pomfret,  where  he  rested,  appointing  the  lord  Fitz  Walter 
to  keepe  the  ])assage  of  Ferrybridge  with  a  good  number  of  tall 
men.  King  Henrie  on  the  other  part,  having  his  armie  in  readinesse, 
committed  the  governance  thereof  to  the  duke  of  Summerset,  the 
earle  of  Northumberland,  and  the  lord  Clifford,  as  men  desiring  to 
revenge  the  death  of  their  parents,  slaine  at  the  first  battell  at  saint 
Albons."— H.  N.  H. 

55 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

So,  underneath  the  belly  of  their  steeds,  20 

That  stain'd  their  fetlocks  in  his  smoking  blood, 
The  noble  gentleman  gave  up  the  ghost. 

War.  Then  let  the  earth  be  drunken  with  our  blood : 
I  '11  kill  my  horse,  because  I  will  not  fly. 
Whv  stand  we  like  soft-hearted  women  here. 
Wailing  our  losses,  whiles  the  foe  doth  rage; 
And  look  u2:)on,  as  if  the  tragedy 
Were  play'd  in  jest  by  counterfeiting  actors? 
Here  on  my  knee  I  vow  to  God  above, 
I  '11  never  pause  again,  never  stand  still,  30 

Till  either  death  hath  closed  these  eyes  of  mine. 
Or  fortune  given  me  measure  of  revenge. 

Edw.  O  Warwick,  I  do  bend  my  knee  with  thine ; 
And  in  this  vow  do  chain  my  soul  to  thine ! 
And,  ere  my  knee  rise  from  the  earth's  cold 

face, 
I  throw  mj^  hands,  mine  eyes,  my  heart  to  Thee, 

22.  "The  lord  Clifford  determined  to  make  a  charge  upon  them 
that  kept  the  passage  of  Ferrybridge;  and  so  he  departed  with  his 
light  horssemen,  and  eavlie,  yer  his  enimies  were  ware,  slue  the  keep- 
ers, and  wan  the  bridge.  The  lord  Fitz  V/alter,  hearing  the  noise, 
suddenlie  rose  oiit  of  his  bed,  and,  thinking  it  had  beene  a  fraie 
amongst  his  men,  came  downe  to  appease  the  same;  but  yer  he  knew 
what  the  matter  meant  was  slaine,  and  with  him  the  bastard  of  Salis- 
biirie,  brother  to  the  earle  of  Warwicke,  a  valiant  yoong  gentleman, 
and  of  great  audacitie." — Ilolinshcd. — H.  N.  H. 

32.  "Wiien  the  earle  of  Warwicke  was  informed  hereof,  like  a 
man  desperat,  he  mounted  on  his  hacknie,  and  hasted  i:>uffing  and 
blowing  to  king  Edward,  saieng, — 'Sir,  I  praie  God  to  have  mercie  of 
their  soules,  which  in  the  beginning  of  your  enterprise  have  lost  their 
lives.'  With  that  he  lighted  downe,  and  slue  his  horse  with  his 
sword,  saieng, — 'Let  him  flee  that  will,  for  surelie  I  will  tarrie  with 
him  that  will  tarrie  with  me';  and  kissed  the  crosse  of  his  sword,  as 
it  were  for  a  vow  to  tlie  promise." — Tlolinshed. — H.  N.  H. 

37.  "Thou  setter  up  and  plucher  down  of  kings";  cp.  Daniel  ii.  21, 
"He  removeth  kings  and  setteth  up  kings." — I.  G. 

56 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Thou  setter  up  and  plucker  down  of  kings, 
Beseeehing  Thee,  if  with  Thy  will  it  stands 
That  to  my  foes  this  body  must  be  prey, 
Yet   that   Th)^   brazen  gates   of   heaven   may 
ope,  40 

And  give  sweet  passage  to  my  sinful  soul! 
Now,  lords,  take  leave  until  we  meet  again. 
Where'er  it  be,  in  heaven  or  in  earth. 
Rich.  Brother,  give  me  thy  hand ;  and,  gentle  A\^ar- 
wick, 
Let  me  embrace  thee  in  my  weary  arms : 
I,  that  did  never  weep,  now  melt  wdth  woe 
That  winter  should  cut  off  our  spring-time  so. 
War,  Away,  away !    Once  more,  sweet  lords,  fare- 
well. 
Geo.  Yet  let  us  all  together  to  our  troops, 

And  give  them  leave  to  fly  that  will  not  stay ;  50 
And  call  them  pillars  that  wdll  stand  to  us ; 
And,  if  we  thrive,  promise  them  such  rewards 
As  victors  wear  at  the  Olymj^ian  games: 
This    may    plant    courage    in    their    quailing 

breasts ; 
For  yet  is  hope  of  life  and  victory. 
Forslow  no  longer,  make  we  hence  amain. 

[E^veunt. 

43.  "in  earth";  the  reading  of  Ff.  1,  2;  Ff.  3,  4,  "in  the  earth"; 
Pope,  "on  earth."— I.  G. 

49.  "all  together,"  Rowe's  emendation  of  Ff.,  "altogether:'— I.  G. 

53.  "ivear";  Collier  MS.,  "wore";  Collier  (ed.  2),  "ware."— I.  G. 

56.  "King  Edward,  perceiving  the  courage  of  his  trustie  friend  the 
earle  of  Warwike,  made  proclamation,  that  all  men  which  were 
afraid  to  fight  should  depart;  and  to  all  those  that  tarried  the  battell 
he  promised  great  rewards,  with  addition,  that  anie  souldier  which 
voluntarilie   would    abide,   and   afterwards,   either    in   or    before   the 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 


Scene  IV 

Another  part  of  the  field. 

Excursions.     Enter  Richard  and  Clifford. 

Rich.  Now,  CliiFord,  I  have  singled  thee  alone: 
Suppose  this  arm  is  for  the  Duke  of  York, 
And  this  for  Rutland ;  both  bound  to  revenge, 
Wert  thou  environ' d  with  a  brazen  wall. 
Clif.  Now,  Richard,  I  am  with  thee  here  alone : 
This  is  the  hand  that  stabb'd  thy  father  York; 
And  this  the  hand  that  slew  thy  brother  Rut- 
land ; 
And  here 's  the  heart  that  triumphs  in  their 

death, 
And  cheers  these  hands  that  slew  thy  sire  and 

brother 
To  execute  the  like  upon  thyself;  10 

And  so,  have  at  thee! 
[They  fight.     Warwick  comes;  Clifford  flies. 
Rich.  Nay,  Warwick,  single  out  some  other  chase; 
For  I  myself  will  hunt  this  wolf  to  death. 

[Eaoeunt. 

fight,  should  seeme  to  flee  or  turne  his  backe,  then  he  that  could 
kill  him  should  have  a  great  reward  and  double  wages." — Holinshed. 
— H.  N.  H. 


58 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  II.  Sc.  v. 


Scene  V 

Another  part  of  the  field. 

Alarum.     Enter  King  Henry  alone. 

King.  This  battle  fares  like  to  the  morning's  war, 
When  dying  clouds  contend  with  growing  light. 
What  time  the  shepherd,  blowing  of  his  nails, 
Can  neither  call  it  perfect  day  nor  night. 
Now  sways  it  this  way,  Uke  a  mighty  sea 
Forced  by  the  tide  to  combat  with  the  wind; 
Now  sways  it  that  way,  like  the  selfsame  sea 
Forced  to  retire  by  fury  of  the  wind : 
Sometime  the  flood  prevails,  and  then  the  wind; 
I      Now  one  the  better,  then  another  best;  10 

^      Both  tugging  to  be  victors,  breast  to  breast. 
Yet  neither  conqueror  nor  conquered: 
So  is  the  equal  poise  of  this  fell  war. 
Here  on  this  molehill  will  I  sit  me  down. 
To  whom  God  will,  there  be  the  victory! 
For  Margaret  my  queen,  and  Clifford  too. 
Have  chid  me  from  the  battle;  swearing  both 
They  prosper  best  of  all  when  I  am  thence. 
Would  I  were  dead!  if  God's  good  will  were 

so; 
For  what  is  in  this  world  but  grief  and  woe?  20 
O  God!  methinks  it  were  a  happy  life, 

3.  This  seems  to  have  been  a  mode  of  wliiling  away  one's  time, 
wlien  one  could  do  nothing  else  or  had  nothing  else  to  do. — H.  N.  H. 

13.  So  in  Ilolinshed:  "Tiiis  deadiic  conflict  continued  ten  hourcs 
in  doubtfull  state  of  victorie,  uncertainlie  heaving  and  setting  on 
both  sides."— H.  N.  H. 

Shk-1-31  59 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

To  be  no  better  than  a  homely  swain; 
To  sit  upon  a  hill,  as  I  do  now, 
To  carve  out  dials  quaintly,  point  by  point, 
Thereby  to  see  the  minutes  how  they  run, 
How  many  make  the  hour  full  complete; 
How  many  hours  bring  about  the  day; 
How  many  days  will  finish  up  the  year; 
How  many  years  a  mortal  man  may  live. 
When  this  is  known,  then  to  divide  the  times :  30 
So  many  hours  must  I  tend  my  flock; 
So  many  hours  must  I  take  my  rest; 
So  many  hours  must  I  contemplate; 
So  many  hours  must  I  sport  myself; 
So  many  days  my  ewes  have  been  with  young; 
So  many  weeks  ere  the  poor  fools  will  can; 
So  many  years  ere  I  shall  shear  the  fleece: 
So  minutes,  hours,  days,  months,  and  years, 
Pass'd  over  to  the  end  they  were  created, 
Would  bring  white  hairs  unto  a  quiet  grave.  40 
Ah,  what  a  life  were  this!  how   sweet!  how 

lovely ! 
Gives  not  the  hawthorne-bush  a  sweeter  shade 
To  shepherds  looking  on  their  silly  sheep, 
Than  doth  a  rich  embroider'd  canopy 
To  kings  that  fear  their  subjects'  treachery? 
O,  yes,  it  doth;  a  thousand-fold  it  doth. 
And  to  conclude,  the  shepherd's  homely  curds. 
His  cold  thin  drink  out  of  his  leather  bottle, 
His  wonted  sleep  under  a  fresh  tree's  shade. 
All  which  secure  and  sweetly  he  enjoys,  50 

26.  "make";  Ff.,  "makes."— I.  G. 

38.  "months";  Rowe,  "weeks,  months." — I.  G. 

60 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  li.  Sc.  v. 

Is  far  beyond  a  prince's  delicates, 

His  viands  sparkling  in  a  golden  cup, 

His  body  couched  in  a  curious  bed, 

When  care,  mistrust,  and  treason  waits  on  him. 

Alarum.     Enter  a  Son  that  has  killed  his  father, 
dragging  in  the  body. 

Son.  Ill  blows  the  wind  that  profits  nobody. 

This  man,  whom  hand  to  hand  I  slew  in  fight, 
May  be  possessed  with  some  store  of  crowns ; 
And  I,  that  haply  take  them  from  him  now, 
May  yet  ere  night  yield  both  my  life  and  them 
To  some  man  else,  as  this  dead  man  doth  me.  60 
Who  's  this?     O  God!  it  is  my  father's  face, 
Whom  in  this  conflict  I  unawares  have  kill'd. 
O  hea\'y  times,  begetting  such  events ! 
From  London  by  the  king  was  I  press'd  forth; 
My  father,  being  the  Earl  of  Warwick's  man, 
Came  on  the  part  of  York,  press'd  by  his  mas- 
ter; 
And  I,  who  at  his  hands  received  my  life, 
Have  by  my  hands  of  life  bereaved  him. 
Pardon  me,  God,  I  knew  not  what  I  did ! 
Ajid  pardon,  father,  for  I  knew  not  tliee !        "0 
My  tears  shall  wipe  away  these  bloody  marks; 
And  no  more  words  till  they  have  flow'd  their 
fill. 

K.  Hen.  O  piteous  spectacle!  O  bloody  times! 
Whiles  lions  war  and  battle  for  their  dens. 
Poor  harmless  lambs  abide  their  enmit)'". 

60.  "as   ih'm  dead  man  doth  me";   Hanmer,  "as   tJiis  dead  man   to 
me";  Wordsworth,  "as  this  dead  doth  to  me." — I.  G. 

61 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Weep,  wretched  man,  I  '11  aid  thee  tear  for  tear ; 
And  let  our  hearts  and  eyes,  like  civil  war, 
Be  blind  with  tears,  and  break  o'ercharged  with 
grief. 

Enter  a  Father  that  has  killed  his  son_,  bringing  in 

the  body. 

^Fath.  Thou  that  so  stoutly  hast  resisted  me, 

Give  me  thy  gold,  if  thou  hast  any  gold;      80 

For  I  have  bought  it  with  an  hundred  blows. 

But  let  me  see :  is  this  our  f oeman's  face  ? 

All,  no,  no,  no,  it  is  mine  only  son! 

All,  boy,  if  any  life  be  left  in  thee, 

Throw  up  thine  eye !  see,  see  what  showers  arise. 

Blown  with  the  windy  tempest  of  my  heart, 

Upon  thy  wounds,  that  kill  mine  eye  and  heart  I 

O,  pity,  God,  this  miserable  age! 

What  stratagems,  how  fell,  how  butcherly, 

Erroneous,  mutinous  and  unnatural,  90 

This  deadly  quarrel  daily  doth  beget! 

O  boy,  thy  father  gave  thee  life  too  soon, 

78.  Johnson's  interpretation  of  tiiis  is  probably  right:  '"The  state 
of  their  hearts  and  eyes  shall  be  like  that  of  the  kingdom  in  a 
civil  war;  all  shall  be  destroyed  by  a  power  formed  within  them- 
selves."— Of  course  these  instances  of  unwitting  parricide  and  fili- 
cide are  meant  to  illustrate  generally  the  horrors  of  civil  war.  They 
were  suggested,  no  doubt,  by  a  passage  in  Hall  concerning  this 
battle  of  Towton:  "This  conflict  was  in  manner  unnatural,  for  in  it 
the  son  fought  against  the  father,  the  brother  against  the  brother, 
the  nephew  again  the  uncle,  and  the  tenant  against  his  lord." — 
H.  N.  H. 

80.  "hast,"  the  reading  of  Ff.  3,  4;  Ff.  1,  2,  "hath."— I.  G. 

87.  "kill,"  Rowe's  correction  of  Ff.,  kills."— I.  G. 

92,  93.  "O  boy,  thy  father  gave  thee  life  too  soon,  And  hath  bereft 
thee  of  thy  life  too  late";  much  has  been  written  on  these  lines,  the 
diflSculty  being  in  the  words  "too  late";  the  simplest  meaning  of  the 

62 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  v. 

And  hatli  bereft  thee  of  thy  hfe  too  late! 
/l.  Heti.  Woe  abov^e  woe!  grief  more  tlian  com- 
mon grief! 
i    O  that  my  death  would  stay  these  ruthf  iil  deeds ! 
O,  pity,  pity,  gentle  heaven,  pity ! 
The  red  rose  and  the  white  are  on  his  face, 
The  fatal  colors  of  our  striving  houses : 
,    The  one  his  purple  blood  right  well  resembles; 
The  other  his  pale  cheeks,  methinks,  presenteth : 
Wither  one  rose,  and  let  the  other  flourish;  101 
If  you  contend,  a  thousand  lives  must  wither. 
Son.  How  will  my  mother  for  a  father's  death 

Take  on  with  me  and  ne'er  be  satisfied! 
Fath.  Plow  will  my  wife  for  slaughter  of  my  son 

,    Shed  seas  of  tears  and  ne'er  be  satisfied! 
K,  Hen.  How  will  the  country  for  these  woful 
chances 
Misthink  the  king  and  not  be  satisfied ! 
Son.  Was  ever  son  so  rued  a  father's  death? 
Fath.  Was  ever  father  so  bemoan'd  his  son?      HO 
K.  Hen.  Was  ever  king  so  grieved  for  subjects' 
woe? 
Much  is  your  sorrow;  mine  ten  times  so  much. 
Son.  I  '11  bear  thee  hence,  where  I  may  weep  my 
fill.  [E.vit  tvitJi  the  hodij. 

Fath,  These  arms  of  mine  shall  be  thy  winding- 
sheet  ; 

phrase  seems  to  be  "when  too  late";  others  explain  "too  late"="too 
recently."  The  Qq.  read  "too  kite"  in  the  first  line,  and  "too  soon"  in 
the  second. 

The  force  of  the  crude  couplet  seems  to  be: — O  boy,  too  soon  thy 
father  gave  thee  life  (better  thou  had'st  never  been  born!);  too  late 
he  discovers  that  the  fatal  blow  was  aimed  at  thee. — I.  G. 

63 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

My  heart,  sweet  boy,  shall  be  thy  sepulcher. 
For  from  my  heart  thine  image  ne'er  shall  go; 
My  sighing  breast  shall  be  thy  funeral  bell; 
And  so  obsequious  will  thy  father  be. 
Even  for  the  loss  of  thee,  having  no  more. 
As  Priam  was  for  all  his  valiant  sons.  120 

I  '11  bear  thee  hence ;  and  let  them  fight  that  will, 
For  I  have  murdered  where  I  should  not  kill. 

[Exit  with  the  body. 
K.  Hen.  Sad-hearted  men,  much  overgone  with 
care; 
Here  sits  a  king  more  woful  than  you  are. 

Alarums.     Excursions.     Enter  Queen  Mar  gar  et^ 
the  Prince,  and  Exeter. 

Prince.  Fly,  father,  fly!  for  all  your  friends  are 
fled. 
And  Warwick  rages  like  a  chafed  bull: 
Away !  for  death  doth  hold  us  in  pursuit. 
Q.  Mar,  Mount  you,  my  lord;  towards  Berwick 
post  amain: 
Edward  and  Richard,  like  a  brace  of  grey- 
hounds 
Having  the  fearful  flying  hare  in  sight,        130 
,     With  fiery  eyes  sparkling  for  very  wrath, 

And  bloody  steel  grasp'd  in  their  ireful  hands, 
Are  at  our  backs ;  and  therefore  hence  amain. 
Exe.  Away !  for  vengeance  comes  along  with  them : 
Nay,  stay  not  to  expostulate,  make  speed; 

119.  "Even,"  Capell's  emendation;  Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "Men";  F.  4,  "Man"; 
Rowe,  "Sad";  Mitford,  "Mere";  Delius,  (Mitford  conj.)  "Son"; 
Collier  MS.,  "E'en";  Keightley  conj.  "'Fore  men"  or  "To  men"; 
Anon,  conj.  "Main"  &c. — I.  G. 

64 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  il.  Sc.  vi. 

Or  else  come  after:  I  '11  away  before. 
K,  Hen.  Nay,    take   me   with    thee,    good   sweet 
Exeter: 
Not  that  I  fear  to  stay,  but  love  to  go 
Whither  the  queen  intends.     Forward;  away! 

[Exeunt. 


Scene  VI 

Another  yart  of  the  field. 

A  loud  alarum.     Enter  Clifford,  tvounded. 

Clif.  Here  burns  my  candle  out;  aye,  here  it  dies, 
Which,  whiles  it  lasted,  gave  King  Henry  light. 
O  Lancaster,  I  fear  thy  overthrow 
More  than  my  body's  parting  with  my  soul! 

139.  The  great  battle  of  Towton  was  fought  March  29,  1461,  the 
day  after  the  action  at  Ferrybridge.  Its  effect  was  to  fix  the  crown 
on  the  brow  of  Edward.  Hoiinshed's  account  of  it  is  mainly  copied 
from  Hall:  "This  l)attell  was  sore  foughten,  for  hope  of  life  was 
set  aside  on  either  part,  and  taking  of  prisoners  proclaimed  a  great 
offense;  so  everie  man  determined  to  vanquish  or  die  in  the  field. 
But  in  the  end  king  Edward  so  couragiouslie  comforted  his  men,  that 
the  other  part  was  discomfitted  and  overcome;  who,  like  men  amazed, 
fled  toward  Tadcaster  bridge  to  save  themselves,  where  in  the  mid 
waie  is  a  little  brooke  called  Cocke,  not  verie  broad,  but  of  great 
deepnesse,  in  whicli,  what  for  hast  to  escape,  and  what  for  feare  of 
their  followers,  a  great  number  was  drowned.  It  was  reported  that 
men  alive  passed  the  river  upon  dead  carcasses,  and  that  the  great 
river  of  Wharfe  whereinto  that  brooke  dooth  run,  and  all  the  water 
comming  from  Towton,  was  coloured  with  blood.  The  cnase  contin- 
ued all  night  and  the  most  part  of  the  next  daie,  and  ever  the  north- 
erne  men,  as  they  saw  anic  advantage,  returned  againe,  and  fought 
with  their  enimies,  to  the  great  losse  of  both  parts.  For  in  these 
two  dales  were  slaine,  as  they  that  knew  it  wrote,  on  both  parts  six 
and  thirtie  thousand  seven  hundred  threescore  and  sixteene  persons, 
all  Englishmen  and  of  one  nation." — H.  N.  H. 

65 


Act  II.  Sc.  vi.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

My  love  and  fear  glued  many  friends  to  thee; 
And,  now  I  fall,  thy  tough  commixture  melts. 
Impairing     Henry,     strengthening    misproud 

York, 
The  common  people  swarm  like  summer  flies ; 
And  w^hither  fly  the  gnats  but  to  the  sun? 
And  who  shines  now  but  Henry's  enemies?      10 

0  Phoebus,  hadst  thou  never  given  consent 
That  Phaethon  should  check  thy  fiery  steeds. 
Thy  burning  car  never  had  scorch'd  the  earth! 
And,  Henry,  hadst  thou  sway'd  as  kings  should 

do, 
Or  as  thy  father  and  his  father  did. 
Giving  no  ground  unto  the  house  of  York, 
They  never  then  had  sprung  like  summer  flies; 

1  and  ten  thousand  in  this  luckless  realm 
Had  left  no  mourning  windows  for  our  death; 
And  thou  this  day  hadst  kept  thy  chair  in  peace. 
For  what  doth  cherish  weeds  but  gentle  air  ?  21 
And  what  makes  robbers  bold  but  too  much 

lenity  ? 
Bootless    are    plaints,    and    cureless    are    my 

wounds ; 
No  way  to  fly,  nor  strength  to  hold  out  flight: 
The  foe  is  merciless,  and  will  not  pity; 
For  at  their  hands  I  have  deserved  no  pity. 
The  air  hath  got  into  my  deadly  wounds, 

6.  "And,  now  I  fall,  thy  tough  commixture  melts,"  Rowe's  reading; 
Ff.,  "fall.  Thy";  Rann,  "fall,  that";  Johnson  conjectured  "fall, 
the";  "commixture  melts,"  Steevens'  correction  (from  Qq.);  F-  If 
"Commixtures  melts";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Commixtures  melt." 

8.  Omitted  in  Ff.     Restored  by  Theobald   (from  Qq.).— I.  G. 

IT.  Omitted  by  Capell,  following  Qq.— I.  G. 

66 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  vi. 

And  much  effuse  of  blood  doth  make  me  faint. 

Come,  York  and  Richard,  Warwick  and  the 

rest,  ^^ 

I  stabb'd  your  fathers'  bosoms,  spUt  my  breast. 

\_He  faints. 

Alarum    and    retreat     Enter    Edward,    George, 
Richard,  Montague,  Warwick,  and  Soldiers. 

Edw.  Now  breathe  we,  lords :  good  fortune  bids  us 

pause. 
And  smooth  the  frowns  of  war  with  peaceful 

looks. 
Some  troops  pursue  the  bloody-minded  queen, 
That  led  calm  Henry,  though  he  were  a  king, 
As  doth  a  sail,  fill'd  with  a  fretting  gust, 
Command  an  argosy  to  stem  the  waves. 
But  think  you,  lords,  that  Clifford  fled  with 

them  ? 
War.  No,  'tis  impossible  he  should  escape; 

For,  though  before  his  face  I  speak  the  words. 

Your   brother    Richard   mark'd   him    for    the 

40 
grave :  *" 

And  whereso'er  he  is,  he  's  surely  dead. 

[Cliff or d  groans,  and  dies. 
Edw.  Whose  soul  is  that  which  takes  her  heavy 

leave  ? 
Rich.  A  deadly  groan,  like  life  and  death's  depart- 

Edw.  See  who  it  is :  and,  now  the  battle  's  ended, 
If  friend  or  foe,  let  him  be  gently  used. 

43-45.  The  assignment  to  tlic  speakers  is  due  to  Capell,  following 
Qq.,  which  here  are  more  correct  than  Ff. — I.  G. 

67 


Act  II.  Sc.  vi.  THE  TIIIKD  PAKT  OF 

Rich.  Revoke  that  doom  of  mercy,  for  'tis  CiiiFord; 
Who  not  contented  that  he  lopp'd  the  branch 
In  hewing  Rutland  when  his  leaves  put  forth, 
But  set  his  murdering  knife  unto  the  root 
From  whence  that  tender  spray  did  sweetly 
spring,  50 

I  mean  our  princely  father,  Duke  of  York. 
War.  From  oif  the  gates  of  York  fetch  down  the 
head, 
Your    father's    head,    which    Clifford    placed 

there; 
Instead  whereof  let  this  supply  the  room: 
Measure  for  measure  must  be  answered. 
Edw.  Bring  forth  that  fatal  screech-owl  to  our 
house, 
That  nothing  sung  but  death  to  us  and  ours : 
Now  death  shall  stop  his   dismal  threatening 

sound. 
And  his  ill-boding  tongue  no  more  shall  speak. 
War.  I  think  his  understanding  is  bereft.  60 

Speak,  Clifford,  dost  thou  know  who  speaks  to 

thee  ? 
Dark  cloudy  death  o'ershades  his  beams  of  life, 
And  he  nor  sees,  nor  hears  us  what  we  say. 
Rich.  O,  would  he  did !  and  so  perhaps  he  doth : 
'Tis  but  his  policy  to  counterfeit, 
Because  he  would  avoid  such  bitter  taunts 
Which  in  the  time  of  death  he  gave  our  father. 
Geo.  If  so  thou  think'st,  vex  him  with  eager  words. 
Rich.  Clifford,  ask  mercy  and  obtain  no  grace, 
Edw.  Clifford,  repent  in  bootless  penitence.         70 
War.  Clifford,  devise  excuses  for  thy  faults. 

68 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ii.  Sc.  m. 

Geo.  While  we  devise  fell  tortures  for  thy  faults. 
Uich.  Thou  didst  love  York,  and  I  am  son  to  York. 
Edxv.  Thou  pitied'st  Rutland;  I  will  pity  thee. 
Geo.  Where 's   Captain   Margaret,   to   fence   you 

now? 
War.  They  mock  thee,  Clifford:  swear  as  thou  wast 

wont. 
Uich.  What,  not  an  oath?  nay,  then  the  world  goes 
hard, 
When  Clifford  cannot  spare  his  friends  an  oath. 
I  know  by  that  he  's  dead ;  and,  by  my  soul, 
If  this  right  hand  would  buy  two  hours'  life,  80 
That  I  in  all  despite  might  rail  at  him. 
This  hand  should  chop  it  off,  and  with  the  is- 
suing blood 
Stifle  the  villain,  whose  unstanched  thirst 
York  and  young  Rutland  could  not  satisfy. 
War.  Aye,  but  he's  dead:  off  with  the  traitor's 
head, 
And  rear  it  in  the  place  your  father's  stands. 
And  now  to  London  with  triumphant  march, 
There  to  be  crowned  England's  royal  king: 
From  whence  shall  Warwick  cut  the  sea  to 
France, 

80.  "If  this  right  hand  would  buy  two  hours'  life";  Capell  (from 
Qq.),  "would  (his  riyht  hand  buy  but  an  hour's  life";  F.  1,  "two 
hours'";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "but  two  hours'."— I.  G. 

82.  "This  hand  should";  Capell  (from  Qq.),  "I'd."—!.  G. 

86,  So  in  the  Chronicles:  "After  this  great  victorie,  king  Edward 
rode  to  Yorke;  and  first  he  caused  the  heads  of  his  father,  tlie 
earle  of  Salisburie,  and  other  his  freends,  to  be  taken  from  the 
gates,  and  to  be  buried  with  their  bodies,  and  there  he  caused  the 
earle  of  Devonshire  and  three  other  to  be  beheaded,  and  set  their  heads 
in  the  same  place." — H.  N.  H. 

69 


Act  11.  Sc.  vi.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

And  ask  tlie  Lady  Bona  for  thy  queen :  90 
So  slialt  thou  sinew  both  these  lands  together; 
And,  having  France  thy  friend,  thou  shalt  not 

di'ead 
The  scatter'd  foe  that  hopes  to  rise  again; 
For  though  they  cannot  greatly  sting  to  hurt, 
Yet  look  to  have  them  buzz  to  offend  thine  ears. 
First  will  I  see  the  coronation; 
And  then  to  Brittany  I  '11  cross  the  sea, 
To  effect  this  marriage,  so  it  please  my  lord, 
Edw.  Even  as  thou  wilt,  sweet  Warwick,  let  it  be; 
For  in  thy  shoulder  do  I  build  my  seat,        100 
And  never  will  I  undertake  the  thing 
"Wherein  thy  counsel  and  consent  is  wanting. 
Richard,  I  will  create  thee  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
And  George,  of  Clarence :  Warwick,  as  ourself , 
Shall  do  and  undo  as  him  pleaseth  best. 
Rich.  Let  me  be  Duke  of  Clarence,  George  of 
Gloucester ; 
For  Gloucester's  dukedom  is  too  ominous. 
War.  Tut,  that 's  a  foolish  observation : 

Richard,  be  Duke  of  Gloucester.     Now  to  Lon- 
don, 
To  see  these  honors  in  possession.    \_Exeunt.  HO 

100.  "in  thy  shoulder";  so  F.  1 ;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "on  thy  s."—\.  G. 

110.  Holiiished,  after  Hall,  winds  up  the  story  of  "the  good  Duke 
Humphrey's"  death  with  the  following:  "Some  thinkc  that  the  name 
and  title  of  Glocester  hath  beene  unluckie  to  diverse,  as  Hugh 
Spenser,  Thomas  of  Woodstoke,  and  this  duke  Humfrie;  which  three 
persons  by  miserable  death  finished  their  daies,  and  after  them  king 
Richard  the  third  also.  So  that  this  name  is  taken  for  an  unhappie 
stile,  as  the  proverb  speaketh  of  Sejans  horsse,  whose  rider  was 
ever  unhorssed,  and  whose  possessor  was  ever  brought  to  miserie." — 
H.  N    H. 


70 


MNG  HEIOLY  YI  Act  iii.  Sc.  L 


ACT  THIKD 

Scene  I 

A  forest  in  the  north  of  England. 

Enter  two  Keepers,  with  cross-bows  in  their  hands. 

First  Keej).  Under  this  thick-grown  brake  we  '11 
shroud  ourselves; 
For  through  this  laund  anon  the  deer  will  come; 
And  in  this  covert  will  we  make  our  stand, 
Culling  the  principal  of  all  the  deer. 
Sec.  Keep.  I  '11  stay  above  the  hill,  so  both  may 

shoot. 
First  Keep.  That  cannot  be ;  the  noise  of  thy  cross- 
bow 
Will  scare  the  herd,  and  so  my  shoot  is  lost. 
Here  stand  we  both,  and  aim  we  at  the  best : 
And,  for  the  time  shall  not  seem  tedious, 
I  '11  tell  thee  what  befell  me  on  a  dav  IC 

In  tliis  self-2:)lace  where  now  we  mean  to  stand. 

"Enter  two  keepers";  Ff.,  "Enter  Sinklo  and  Humfrey";  "as 
Sinklo  is  certainly  the  name  of  an  y\.ctor  who  is  mentioned  in  tlie 
stage  directions  in  the  Taming  of  the  Shreic  (Ind.  i.  86),  and  in 
Henri/  IV,  Part  II,  Act  v.  Sc.  4,  there  is  a  great  prol)al)ility  that 
Humphrey  is  the  name  of  another  Actor;  perhaps,  as  IMnlone  sug- 
gests, Ilumfrey  Jcaffes.  Neither  of  these  is  mentioned  in  the  list  of 
"Principall  Actors"  prefixed  to  tlie  first  Folio"  (Camb.  Editors).— 
I.  G. 

9.  Evidently  meaning. — "And,  that  the  time  ma}/  not  seem  tedious"; 
a  mode  of  speech  not  uncommon  in  the  old  writers. — H.  N.  H. 

71 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Sec,  Keep.  Here  comes  a  man ;  let 's  stay  till  he 
be  past. 

Enter  King  Henry,  disguised,  with  a  prayer-book. 

K.  Hen.  From  Scotland  am  I  stolen,  even  of  pure 

love, 
To  greet  mine  own  land  with  my  wishful  sight. 
No,  Harry,  Harry,  'tis  no  land  of  thine; 
Thy  place  is  fiU'd,  thy  scepter  wrung  from  thee, 
Thy   balm   wash'd   off   wherewith   thou    wast 

anointed : 
No  bending  knee  will  call  thee  Caesar  now, 
No  humble  suitors  press  to  speak  for  right, 

13.  "Enter  King  Henry,  disguised,  icith  a  Prayer-book,"  Malone's 
emendation;  Ff.,  "Enter  the  King  with  a  Prayer  booke";  Collier  MS., 
adds,  "disguised  as  a  Churchman";  Capell  (from  Qq.),  "Enter  King 
Henrie  disguisde." — I.  G. 

The  Poet  here  leaps  over  something  more  than  four  years  of 
military  and  parliamentary  slaughter.  After  the  battle  of  Towton 
the  king  fled  into  Scotland,  and  from  thence  sent  the  queen  and 
prince  to  France.  In  October,  1463,  she  returned  to  Scotland  with 
a  small  power  of  men,  and  soon  after,  having  obtained  a  great  com- 
pany of  Scots,  she  entered  England  with  the  king.  At  first  the  Lan- 
castrian cause  had  a  gleam  of  success,  but  was  again  crushed  at 
the  battle  of  Hexham,  in  April,  1461.  After  this  overthrow,  the 
king  escaped  a  second  time  into  Scotland;  and  it  was  upon  his  second 
return  in  June,  1465,  that  he  was  taken,  somewhat  as  is  represented 
in  this  scene.  Such,  at  least,  is  the  account  delivered  by  Hall  and 
Holinshed;  who,  after  speaking  of  Edward's  measures  of  security 
against  his  rival,  add  the  following:  "But  all  the  doui)ts  of  trouble 
that  might  insue  by  king  Henries  being  at  libertie  were  shortlie 
taken  away;  for  he  himselfe,  whether  he  was  past  all  feare,  or 
that  hee  was  not  well  established  in  his  wits,  or  for  that  he  could 
not  long  keepe  himselfe  secret,  in  disguised  atire  boldlie  entered  into 
England.  He  was  no  sooner  entred,  but  he  was  knowne  and  taken 
of  one  Cantlow,  and  brought  toward  the  king;  whom  the  earle  of 
Warwicke  met  on  the  way,  and  brought  him  through  London  to  the 
Tower,  and  there  he  was  laid  in  sure  hold." — H.  N.  H. 

14.  "To  greet  mine  oxen  land  with  my  wishful  sight";  Rann  (froro 
Qq.),  "and  thus  di^guis'd  to  greet  my  native  land." — I.  G. 

17.  "wast,"  the  reading  of  Ff.  3,  4;  Ff.  1,  2,  "ioas."—I.  G. 

72 


KING  IIENKY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 

No,  not  a  mail  comes  for  redress  of  thee;       '-^0 
For  how  can  I  help  them,  and  not  myself? 
First  Keep.  Aye,  here  's  a  deer  whose  skin  's  a 

keeper's  fee: 
This  is  the  quondam  king ;  let 's  seize  upon  him, 
K.  Hen.  Let  me  embrace  thee,  sour  adversity, 

For  wise  men  say  it  is  the  wisest  course. 
Sec.  Keep.  AVhy  linger  we?  let  us  lay  hands  upon 

him. 
First  Keep.  Forbear   awhile;   we'll  hear  a   little 

more. 
K.  Hen.  My  queen  and  son  are  gene  to  France 

for  aid; 
And,  as  1  hear,  the  great  commanding  Warwick 
Is  thither   gone,  to   crave  the  French  king's 

sister  '^^ 

To  wife  for  Edward:  if  this  news  be  true, 
Poor  queen  and  son,  your  labor  is  but  lost; 
For  Warwick  is  a  subtle  orator. 
And   Lewis  a  prince  soon  won  vaXh  moving 

words. 
By  this  account  then  Margaret  may  win  him ; 
For  she  's  a  woman  to  be  pitied  much : 
Her  sighs  will  make  a  battery  in  his  breast ; 
Her  tears  will  pierce  into  a  marble  heart ; 
The  tiger  will  be  mild  while  she  doth  mourn ; 
And  Nero  will  be  tainted  with  remorse,  -10 

To  hear  and  see  her  plaints,  her  brinish  tears. 
Aye,  but  she  's  come  to  beg,  Warwick,  to  give ; 

24.  "thee,  sour  adversity" ;  Dyce's  emendation;  Ff.,  "the  sower  Ad- 
versaries"; Pope,  "these  sour  adversities" ;  Clarke's  Concordance, 
"these  sour  adversaries";  Delius,  "the  sour  adversities." — I.  G. 

73 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

She,  on  his  left  side,  craving  aid  for  Henry, 
He,  on  his  right,  asking  a  wife  for  Edward. 
She  weeps,  and  says  her  Henry  is  deposed; 
He  smiles,  and  says  his  Edward  is  install'd; 
That  she,  poor  wretch,  for  grief  can  speak  no 

more ; 
Whiles   Warwick  tells   his  title,   smooths   the 

wrong, 
Inferreth  arguments  of  mighty  strength, 
And  in  conclusion  wins  the  king  from  her,      50 
With  promise  of  his  sister,  and  what  else. 
To   strengthen   and   support   King   Edward's 

place. 
O  jVIargaret,  thus  'twill  be ;  and  thou,  poor  soul, 
Art  then  forsaken,  as  thou  went'st  forlorn, 
Sec.  Keep.  Say,  what  art  thou  that  talk'st  of  kings 

and  queens  ? 
K.  Hen.  More  than  I  seem,  and  less  than  I  was 

born  to: 
A  man  at  least,  for  less  I  should  not  be ; 
And  men  may  talk  of  kings,  and  why  not  I  ? 
Sec.  Keep.  Aye,  but  thou  talk'st  as  if  thou  wert  a 

king. 
K.  Hen.  Why,   so   I    am,   in   mind ;   and   that 's 

enough.  ^^ 

54.  "The  piety  of  Henry  scarce  interests  us  more  for  his  misfor- 
tunes than  this  his  constant  solicitude  for  the  welfare  of  his  deceitful 
queen." — Steevens. 

55.  "thou  that  talk'st"  &c.;  Rowe's  emendation;  Qq.,  "thou  that 
talkes,"  &c.;  Ff.,  "thou  talk'st,"  &c.;  Collier,  "thou  talkest,'"  &c.— 
I.  G. 

GO.  "and  that's  enough";  Rann  (from  Qq.),  "though  not  in  shew." 
—I.  G. 

74 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  i. 

Sec,  Keep.  But,  if  thou  be  a  king,  where  is  thy 

crown  ? 
K.  Hen.  My  crown  is  in  my  heart,  not  on  my  head ; 
Not  cleck'd  with  diamonds  and  Indian  stones, 
Nor  to  be  seen :  my  crown  is  call'd  content : 
A  crown  it  is  that  seldom  kings  enjoy. 
Sec.  Keep.  Well,  if  you  be  a  king  cro\vn'd  with 
content. 
Your  crown  content  and  you  must  be  contented 
To  go  along  wdth  us;  for,  as  we  think. 
You  are  the  king  King  Edward  hath  deposed; 
And  we  his  subjects  sworn  in  all  allegiance   ^0 
Will  apprehend  you  as  his  enemy. 
K.  Hen.  But  did  you  never  swear,  and  break  an 

oath  ? 
Sec.  Keep.  No,  never  such  an  oath;  nor  will  not 

now. 
K.  Hen.  Where  did  you  dwell  when  I  was  King 

of  England? 
Sec.  Keep.  Here. in  this  country,  where  we  now  re- 
main. 
K.  Hen.  I  was  anointed  king  at  nine  months  old; 
My  father  and  my  grandfather  were  kings, 
And  you  were  sworn  true  subjects  unto  me: 
And  tell  me,  then,  have  you  not  broke  your 
oaths  ? 
First  Keep.  No;  ^^ 

For  w^e  were  subjects  but  while  you  were  king. 
K.  Hen.  Why,  am  I  dead?  do  I  not  breathe  a  man? 
Ah,  simple  men,  you  know  not  what  you  swear  I 
Look,  as  I  blow  this  feather  from  my  face, 
And  as  the  air  blows  it  to  me  again, 

75 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Obeying  with  my  wind  when  I  do  blow, 
And  yielding  to  another  when  it  blows, 
Commanded  always  by  the  greater  gust; 
Such  is  the  lightness  of  you  common  men. 
But  do  not  break  your  oaths ;  for  of  that  sin  90 
My  mild  entreaty  shall  not  make  you  guilty. 
Go  where  you  will,  the   king  shall  be   com- 
manded ; 
And  be  you  kings,  coinmand,  and  I  '11  obey. 
First.  Keep.  We  are  true  subjects  to  the  king. 

King  Edward. 
K.  Hen.  So  would  you  be  again  to  Henry, 

If  he  were  seated  as  King  Edward  is. 
First  Keep.  We  charge  you,  in  God's  name,  and 
the  king's, 
To  go  with  us  unto  the  officers. 
K.  Hen.  In  God's  name,  lead;  your  king's  name 
be  obey'd:  99 

And  what  God  will,  that  let  your  king  perform; 
And  what  he  will,  I  humbly  yield  unto. 

[Exeunt. 

97.  "We  charge  you,  in  God's  name,  and  the  king's";  "You";  Anon, 
conj.  "you  now"  or  "you  then";  "and  the  king's";  Rowe,  "and  in  the 
king's."— I.  G. 

101.  We  have  already  set  forth  the  taking  of  King  Henry  as  re- 
lated in  the  Chronicles.  Dr.  Lingard  probably  has  the  truth  of 
the  matter;  who  tells  us  that  after  the  battle  of  Hexham  the  king 
"sought  an  asylum  among  the  natives  of  Lancashire  and  Westmore- 
land, a  people  sincerely  devoted  to  his  interests.  Their  fidelity  en- 
abled him  for  more  than  a  year  to  elude  the  vigilance  and  researches 
of  the  government;  but  he  was  at  last  betraj^ed  by  the  perfidy  of  a 
monk  of  Abingdon,  and  taken  by  the  servants  of  Sir  James  Har- 
rington, as  he  sat  at  dinner  in  Waddington  hall  in  Yorkshire.  At 
Islington  he  was  met  by  Warwick,  who  ordered  that  no  one  should 
show  him  any  respect,  tied  his  feet  to  the  stirrups  as  a  prisoner,  led 
him  thrice  round  the  pillory,  and  conducted  him  to  the  Tower.     There 

76 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  in.  Sc.  ii. 


Scene  II 

London.     The  palace. 

Enter  King  Edward,  Gloucester,  Clarence,  and 

Lady  Grey. 

K,  Edw.  Brother  of  Gloucester,  at  Saint  Alban's 

field 
This  lady's  husband,   Sir  Richard  Grey,  was 

slain, 
His  lands  then  seized  on  by  the  conqueror: 
Her  suit  is  now  to  repossess  those  lands; 
Which  we  in  justice  cannot  well  deny, 
Because  in  quarrel  of  the  house  of  York 
The  worthy  gentleman  did  lose  his  life. 

he  was  treated  with  humanity,  but  kept  in  the  most  rigorous  con- 
finement for  some  years." — H.  N.  H. 

2.  "Richard";  the  reading  of  Ff.  and  Qq. ;  Pope  (from  Hall), 
"John."— I.  G. 

3.  "lands";  Capell's  correction  (from  Qq.);  Ff.,  "land."— I.  G. 
6-7,  "In  quarrel  of  the   house   of   York,"  &c.;   but   in   reality   Sir 

John  Grey  fell  in  the  second  battle  of  St.  Albans,  fighting  on  the 
side  of  King  Henrj-. — I.  G. 

This  seems  a  very  needless  departure  from  fact.  Sir  John  Grey 
fell  in  the  second  battle  of  St.  Albans,  fighting  on  King  Henry's  side; 
and  his  lands  were  not  seized  by  tlie  queen,  who  conquered  in  tliat 
battle,  but  by  King  Edward  after  the  victory  at  Towton.  Shake- 
speare has  the  matter  correctly  in  Richard  III,  Act  i.  sc.  3: 

"In  all  which  time,  you  and  your  husband  Grey 
Were  factious  for  the  house  of  Lancaster; — 
And,  Rivers,  so  were  you: — Was  not  your  husband 
In  Margaret's  battle  at  St.  Albans  slain?" 

As  the  text  in  this  passage  is  but  slightly  altered  from  the  quarto, 
Malone  cites  this  discrepancy  as  "proving  incontestably  that  Shake- 
speare was  not  the  original  author  of  the  play." — H.  N.  H. 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  FART  OF 

Gloii.  Your  liighness  shall  do  well  to  grant  her 
suit; 
It  were  dishonor  to  deny  it  her. 
K.  Edw.  It  were  no  less ;  but  yet  I  '11  make  a 
pause.  10 

Gloii.  I  Aside  to  Clar.']  Yea,  is  it  so? 
I  see  the  lady  hath  a  thing  to  grant, 
Before  the  king  will  grant  her  humble  suit. 
Clar,  [Aside  to  Glou.~\  He  knows  the  game:  how 

true  he  keeps  the  wind! 
Glou.  [Aside  to  Claj\}   Silence! 
K,  Edw.  Widow,  we  will  consider  of  your  suit ; 

And  come  some  other  time  to  know  our  mind. 
L.  Grey,  Right  gracious  lord,  I  cannot  brook  de- 
lay: 
May  it  please  j^our  highness  to  resolve  me  now; 
And  what  your  pleasure  is,  shall  satisfy  me.    20 
Glou,  [Aside  to  Clar.]  Aye,  widow?  then  I  '11  war- 
rant you  all  your  lands. 
An  if  what  pleases  him  shall  pleasure  you. 
Fight  closer,  or,  good  faith,  you  '11  catch  a  blow. 
Clar.  [Aside  to  Glou.]  I  fear  her  not,  unless  she 

chance  to  fall. 
Glou.  [Aside  to  Clar.']  God  forbid  that!  for  he'll 

take  vantages, 
K.  Ediv.  How  many  children  hast  thou,  widow? 

tell  me. 
Clar.  [Aside  to  Glou.]  I  think  he  means  to  beg  a 

child  of  her. 
Glou.  [Aside  to  Clar.]  Nay,  whip  me  then:  he'll 

rather  give  her  two. 
L.  Grey.  Three,  my  most  gracious  lord. 

78 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Glou.  [Aside  to  C7ar.]   You  shall  have  four,  if 
you  '11  be  ruled  by  him.  3^ 

K.  Edtv.  'Twere  pity  they  should  lose  their  fath- 
er's lands. 

L.  Grey.  Be  pitiful,  dread  lord,  and  grant  it  then. 

K,  Edw.  Lords,  give  us  leave :  I  '11  try  this  wid- 
ow's wit. 

Glou,  [Aside  to  Clar.']  Aye,  good  leave  have  you; 
for  you  will  have  leave. 
Till  youth  take   leave   and  leave  you   to   the 
crutch.  [Glou.  and  Clar.  retire. 

K,  Edw.  Now  tell  me,  madam,  do  you  love  your 
children  ? 

L.  Grey.  Aye,  full  as  dearly  as  I  love  myself. 

K.  Edw.  And  would  you  not  do  much  to  do  them 
good? 

L.  Grey.  To  do  them  good,  I  would  sustain  some 
harm. 

K.  Edw.  Then  get  your  husband's  lands,  to  do 
them  good.  ^^ 

L,  Grey.  Therefore  I  came  unto  your  majesty. 

K.  Edw.  I  '11  tell  you  how  these  lands  are  to  be 
got. 

L.  Grey.  So  shall  you  bind  me  to  your  highness 
service. 

K.  Edw.  What  service  wilt  thou  do  me,  if  I  give 
them? 

L.  Grey.  What  you  command,  that  rests  in  me  to 
do. 

K.  Edw.  But  you  will  take  exceptions  to  my  boon. 

L.  Grey.  No,  gracious  lord,  except  I  cannot  do  it. 

33.  "then";  Qq.,  "them."— I.  G. 

79 


Act  III,  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

K.  Edw.  Aye,  but  thou  canst  do  what  I  mean  to 

ask. 
L,  Grey.  Why,  then  I  will  do  what  your  grace 

commands. 
Glou.  [Aside  to  Clar.~\   He  plies  her  hard;  and 
much  rain  wears  the  marble.  50 

Clar.  [Aside  to  Glou.']  As  red  as  fire!  nay,  then  her 

wax  must  melt. 
L.  Grey.  Why  stops  my  lord?  shall  I  not  hear  my 

task? 
K.  Edw.  An  easy  task;  'tis  but  to  love  a  king. 
L,  Grey.  That 's  soon  perf orm'd  because  I  am  a 

subject. 
K.  Edw.  Why,  then,  thy  husband's  lands  I  freely 

give  thee. 
L.  Grey.  I  take  my  leave  with  many  thousand 

thanks. 
Glou.  [Aside  to  Clar.]   The  match  is  made;  she 

seals  it  with  a  curt'sy. 
K.  Edw.  But  stay  thee,  'tis  the  fruits  of  love  I 

mean. 
L.  Grey.  The  fruits  of  love  I  mean,  my  loving 

liege. 

K.  Edw.  Aye,  but,  I  fear  me,  in  another  sense.  60 

What  love,  think'st  thou,  I  sue  so  much  to  get? 

L.  Grey.  My  love  till  death,  my  humble  thanks,  my 

prayers ; 

That  love  which  virtue  begs  and  virtue  grants. 

K.  Edii).  No,  by  my  troth,  I  did  not  mean  such 

love. 
L.  Grey.  Why,  then  you  mean  not  as  I  thought 

you  did. 

80 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  iL 

K.  Edw.  But  now  you  partly  may  perceive  my 

mind. 
£/.  Grey.  My  mind  will  never  grant  what  I  i^er- 
ceive 
Your  highness  aims  at,  if  I  aim  aright. 
K.  Edw.  To  tell  thee  j^lain,  I  aim  to  lie  with  thee. 
L.  Grey.  To  tell  you  plain,  I  had  rather  he  in 
in  prison.  ^^ 

K.  Edw.  Why,  then  thou  shalt  not  have  thy  hus- 
band's lands. 
2>.  Grey.  Why,   then  mine  honesty  shall  be  my 
dower ; 
For  by  that  loss  I  will  not  purchase  them. 
K.  Edw.  Therein    thou    wrong'st    thy    children 

mightily. 
L.  Grey.  Herein  your  highness  wrongs  both  them 
and  me. 
'But,  mighty  lord,  this  merry  inclination 
Accords  not  with  the  sadness  of  my  suit : 
Please  you  dismiss  me,  either  with  'aye'  or  *no.* 
K.  Edw.  Aye,  if  thou  wilt  say  'aye'  to  my  request ; 
No,  if  thou  dost  say  'no'  to  my  demand.  ^0 

L.  Grey.  Then,  no,  my  lord.     JNIy  suit  is  at  an  end. 
Glou.  [Aside  to  Clar.]  The  widow  likes  him  not, 

she  knits  her  brows. 
Clar,  [Aside  to  Glou.~\  He  is  the  bluntest  wooer  in 

Christendom. 
K,  Edw.  [Aside^  Her  looks  do  argue  her  replete 
with  modesty; 
Her  words  do  show  her  wit  incomparable; 
All  her  perfections  challenge  sovereignty: 
One  way  or  other  she  is  for  a  king ; 

81 


[Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Aiid  she  shall  be  my  love,  or  else  my  queen. — 
Say  that  King  Edward  take  thee  for  his  queen? 
L.  Grey.  'Tis  better  said  than  done,  my  gracious 
lord : 
I  am  a  subject  fit  to  jest  withal,  91 

But  far  unfit  to  be  a  sovereign. 
K.  Edw,  Sweet  widow,  by  my  state  I  swear  to 
thee, 
I  speak  no  more  than  what  my  soul  intends ; 
And  that  is,  to  enjoy  thee  for  mj^  love. 
Li,  Grey.  And  that  is  more  than  I  will  yield  unto: 
I  know  I  am  too  mean  to  be  your  queen, 
And  yet  too  good  to  be  your  concubine. 
X.  Edw.  You  cavil,  widow :  I  did  mean,  my  queen. 
L.  Grey.  'Twill  grieve  your  grace  my  sons  should 
call  you  father.  100 

K,  Edw.  No  more  than  when  my  daughters  call 
thee  mother. 
Thou  art  a  widow,  and  thou  hast  some  children ; 
And,  by  God's  mother,  I,  being  but  a  bachelor, 
Have  other  some:  why,  'tis  a  happy  thing 
To  be  the  father  unto  many  sons. 
Answer  no  more,  for  thou  shalt  be  my  queen. 
Glou.  [Aside  to  Clar.~\   The  ghostly  father  now 

hath  done  his  shrift. 
Clar,  [Aside  to  Glou.]  When  he  was  made  a  shriv- 

er,  'twas  for  shift. 
K,  Edw.  Brothers,  you  muse  what  chat  we  two 
have  had. 


108.  "'twas  for  shift";  so  Ff.  1,  2;  F.  3  reads,  '"twaa  for  a  shift 
F.  4,  "it  was  for  a  shift"— J.  G. 


B2 


» , 


L.  Grey  Wty  mind  will  never  grant  wnjt  I  perceive 

Yojr  Highness  aims  at,  if  I  aim  aright." 

King  Henry  VI.     P.  3      Act  3,  Scene  2 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Glou.  The  widow  likes  it  not,  for  she  looks  very 
sad.  110 

K.  Ediv.  You  'Id   think    it    strange    if    I    should 
marry  her. 

Clar.  To  whom,  my  lord? 

K.  Edw.  Why,  Clarence,  to  myself. 

Glou.  That  would  be  ten  days'  wonder  at  the  least. 

Clar.  That 's  a  day  longer  than  a  wonder  lasts. 

Glou.  By  so  much  is  the  wonder  in  extremes. 

K.  Edw.  Well,  jest  on,  brothers:  I  can  tell  you 
both. 
Her  suit  is  granted  for  her  husband's  lands. 

Enter  a  Nohleman. 

Noh.  My  gracious  lord,  Henry  your  foe  is  taken, 
And  brought  your  prisoner  to  your  palace  gate. 

110.  "very  sad";  so  F.  1;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "sad."— I.  G. 

117.  The  first  meeting  of  Edward  with  the  hidy  Elizabeth  is  thus 
noted  in  the  Chronicles:  "The  king,  being  on  hunting  in  the  for- 
est of  Wichwood  beside  Stonistratford,  came  for  his  recreation  to 
the  manor  of  Grafton,  where  the  duchesse  of  Bedford  then  sojourned, 
wife  to  sir  Richard  Woodvile  lord  Rivers,  on  whome  was  then  at- 
tendant a  daughter  of  hirs,  called  the  ladie  Elizabeth  Graie,  widow  of 
sir  John  Graie  knight,  slaine  at  the  last  battell  of  saint  Albons.  This 
widow,  having  a  sute  to  the  king  for  such  lands  as  hir  husband  had 
given  hir  in  jointure,  so  kindled  the  kings  affection,  that  he  not  onelie 
favoured  hir  sute,  but  more  hir  person.  For  she  was  a  woman  of  a 
more  formall  countenance,  than  of  excellent  beautie;  and  yet  both 
of  such  beautie  and  favour,  that  with  hir  sober  demeanour,  sweete 
looks,  and  conielie  smiling,  neither  too  wanton  nor  too  iiashfull,  be- 
sides hir  pleasant  toong  and  trim  wit,  she  so  alured  and  made  sub- 
ject unto  hir  the  heart  of  that  great  prince,  that,  after  she  had  denied 
him  to  be  his  paramour,  with  so  good  maner,  and  words  so  well  set 
as  better  could  not  be  devised,  he  finallie  resolved  with  himselfe  to 
marrie  hir,  not  asking  counsell  of  anie  man,  till  they  uiinrht  per- 
ceive it  was  no  bootie  to  advise  him  to  the  contrarie  of  that  his  pur- 
pose."—H.  N.  H. 

119.  "your  prisoner";  the  reading  of  Ff.,  Capell  (from  Qq.)>  "<w 
prisoner";  Id.  conj.  "a  prisoner." — T.  G. 

Shk-1-32  83 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

K.  Edw.  See  that  he  be  convey'd  unto  the  Tower: 
And  go  we,  brothers,  to  the  man  that  took  him, 
To  question  of  his  apprehension.  122 

Widow,  go  you  along.     Lords,  use  her  honor- 
ably. [Eoceunt  all  hut  Gloucester, 
Glou.  Ajx,  Edward  wdll  use  women  honorably. 
Would  he  were  wasted,  marrow,  bones  and  all, 
That  from  his  loins  no  hopeful  branch  may 

spring, 
To  cross  me  from  the  golden  time  I  look  for ! 
And  yet,  between  my  soul's  desire  and  me — 
The  lustful  Edward's  title  buried — 
Is  Clarence,  Henry,  and  his  son  young  Edward, 
And  all  the  unlook'd  for  issue  of  their  bodies, 
To  take  their  rooms,  ere  I  can  place  myself :  132 
A  cold  premeditation  for  my  purpose ! 
Why,  then,  I  do  but  dream  on  sovereignty; 
Like  one  that  stands  upon  a  promontory. 
And  spies  a  far-off  shore  where  he  would  tread. 
Wishing  his  foot  were  equal  with  his  eye. 
And   chides   the   sea   that   sunders   him   from 

thence, 
Saying,  he  '11  lade  it  dry  to  have  his  way: 
So  do  I  wish  the  crown,  being  so  far  off;        140 
And  so  I  chide  the  means  that  keeps  me  from 

it; 
And  so  I  say,  1 11  cut  the  causes  off. 
Flattering  me  with  impossibilities. 
My  eye  's  too  quick,  my  heart  o'erweens  too 
'  much, 

143.  "Flattering    me    with    impossibilities";    Pope,    "Flatt'ring    my 
mind  with  things  impossible";  ("7«e"="myself"). — I.  G. 

84 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  ill.  Sc.  ii. 

Unless  my  hand  and  strength  could  equal  them. 
Well,  say  there  is  no  kingdom  then  for  llicliard ; 
What  other  pleasure  can  the  world  afford? 
I  '11  make  my  heaven  in  a  lady's  lap, 
And  deck  my  body  in  gay  ornaments, 
And  witch  sweet  ladies  with  my  words   and 
looks.  150 

O  miserable  thought!  and  more  unlikely 
Than  to  accomplish  twenty  golden  crowns! 
Why,  love  forswore  me  in  my  mother's  womb: 
And,  for  I  should  not  deal  in  her  soft  laws, 
She  did  corrupt  frail  nature  with  some  bribe, 
To  shrink  mine  arm  up  like  a  wither'd  shrub ; 
To  make  an  envious  mountain  on  my  back, 
Where  sits  deformity  to  mock  my  body; 
To  shape  my  legs  of  an  unequal  size; 
To  disproportion  me  in  every  part,  160 

Like  to  a  chaos,  or  an  unlick'd  bear-whelp 
That  carries  no  impression  like  the  dam. 
And  am  I  then  a  man  to  be  beloved? 

0  monstrous  fault,  to  harbor  such  a  thought ! 
Then,  since  this  earth  affords  no  joy  to  me. 
But  to  conmiand,  to  check,  to  o'erbear  such 
As  are  of  better  person  than  myself, 

1  '11  make  my  heaven  to  dream  upon  the  crown, 
And,  whiles  I  live,  to  account  this  world  but 

hell, 
Until   my   mis-shaped   trunk    that    bears   this 
head  I'O 

156.  "shrub";  Qq.,  "shrimpe/'—'l.  G. 

170.  "Until  my   itih-shaped  trunk  that  hears  this  head";  the  read- 
ing of  Ff.  1,  2;  Ff.  3,  4,  "Until  this    .    .    .      head";  Pope,  "Until 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Be  round  impaled  with  a  glorious  crown. 
And  yet  I  know  not  how  to  get  the  crown. 
For  many  lives  stand  between  me  and  home : 
And  I, — like  one  lost  in  a  thorny  wood, 
That  rends  the  thorns   and  is  rent  with  the 

thorns, 
Seeking  a  w^ay  and  straying  from  the  way ; 
Not  knowing  how  to  find  the  open  air. 
But  toiling  desperately  to  find  it  out, — 
Torment  myself  to  catch  the  English  crown: 
And  from  that  torment  I  will  free  myself,    180 
Or  hew  my  way  out  with  a  bloodj-  axe. 
Why,  I  can  smile,  and  murder  whiles  I  smile, 
And  cry  'Content'  to  that  which  grieves  my 

heart, 
And  wet  my  cheeks  with  artificial  tears, 
And  frame  my  face  to  all  occasions. 
I  '11  drown  more  sailors  than  the  mermaid  shall ; 
I  '11  slay  more  gazers  than  the  basilisk ; 
I  '11  play  the  orator  as  well  as  Nestor, 
Deceive  more  slily  than  Ulysses  could. 
And,  like  a  Sinon,  take  another  Troy.  190 

I  can  add  colors  to  the  chameleon. 
Change  shapes  with  Proteus  for  advantages. 
And  set  the  murderous  Machiavel  to  school. 

the  .  .  .  head";  Thirll)y,  "Until  the  head  of  this  mis-shapen 
triink";  Hanmer,  "Until  the  head  this  mis-shap'd  trunk  doth  bear," 
&c.— I.  G. 

190,  "Sinon,"  who  persuaded  the  Trojans  to  take  the  wooden  horse 
into  Troy.— C.  H.  H. 

193.  "the  murderons  Machiavel";  Warburton  (from  Qq.),  "tW  as- 
piring Catiline";  Ff.  1,  2,  " 21  a.chevill" ;  F.  4,  "Matchevil."—!.  G. 


86 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  hi 

Can  I  do  this,  and  cannot  get  a  crown  i 
Tut,  were  it  further  off,  I  '11  pluck  it  down. 

[Exit. 


Scene  III 

France.     The  King's  Palace. 

Flourish.  Enter  Lewis  the  French  King,  his  sis- 
ter Bona,  his  Admiral,  called  Bourbon:  Prince 
Edward,  Queen  Margaret,  and  the  Earl  of  Ox- 
ford.    Lewis  s^its,  and  riseth  up  again. 

K    Lew.  Fair  Queen  of  England,  worthy  ^lar- 
garet, 
Sit  down  with  us:  it  ill  befits  thy  state 
And  birth,  that  thou  shouldst  stand  w^hile  Lewis 
doth  sit. 
Q.  Mar.  No,  mighty  King  of  France:  now  Mar- 
garet 
Must  strike  her  sail  and  learn  a  while  to  serve 
Where  kings  command.     I  was,  I  must  con- 
fess, 
Great  Albion's  queen  m  former  golden  days : 
But  now  mischance  hath  trod  my  title  down. 
And  with  dishonor  laid  me  on  the  ground ; 
Where  I  must  take  like  seat  unto  mv  fortune,  10 
And  to  my  humble  seat  conform  myself. 
K.  Lexv.  Why,  say,  fair  queen,  whence  springs  this 
deep  despair? 

3.  "while  Lewis  doth  sit";  Rowe,  "whiles  Lewis  sits";  Pope,  "while 
Lewis  sits." — I.  G. 

11.  "seat";  Walker  conj.  "state."— I.  G. 

37 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Q,  Mar.  From  such  a  cause  as  fills  mine  eyes  with 

tears, 
And  stops  my  tongue,  while  heart  is  drown'd  in 

cares. 
K,  Lew.  Whate'er  it  be,  be  thou  still  like  thyself, 
And  sit  thee  by  our  side:  \_Seats  her  by  him] 

yield  not  thy  neck 
To  fortune's  yoke,  but  let  th}^  dauntless  mind 
Still  ride  in  triumph  over  all  mischance. 
Be  plain.  Queen  Margaret,  and  tell  thy  grief; 
It  shall  be  eased,  if  France  can  yield  relief.     20 
Q.  Mar.  Those  gracious  words  revive  my  drooping 

thoughts, 
And   give   my   tongue-tied    sorrows   leave    to 

speak. 
Now,  therefore,  be  it  known  to  noble  Lewis, 
That  Henry,  sole  possessor  of  my  love. 
Is  of  a  king  become  a  banish'd  man. 
And  forced  to  live  in  Scotland  a  forlorn; 
While  proud  ambitious  Edward  Duke  of  York 
Usurps  the  regal  title,  and  the  seat 
Of  England's  true-anointed  lawful  king. 
This  is  the  cause  that  I,  poor  Margaret,        30 
With  this  my  son.  Prince  Edward,  Henry's 

heir, 
Am  come  to  crave  thy  just  and  lawful  aid; 
And  if  thou  fail  us,  all  our  hope  is  done: 
Scotland  hath  will  to  help,  but  cannot  help; 
Our  people  and  our  peers  are  both  misled, 
Our  treasure  seized,  our  soldiers  put  to  flight. 
And,  as  thou  seest,  ourselves  in  heavy  plight. 


88 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc  iii. 

K.  Lew.  Renowned  queen,  with  patience  calm  the 
storm. 
While  we  bethink  a  means  to  break  it  off. 

Q.  31ar.  Tlie  more  we  stay,  the  stronger  grows  our 
foe.  .  40 

K.  Lew.  The  more  I  stay,  the  more  I  '11  succor 
thee. 

Q.  3Iar.  O,  but  impatience  waiteth  on  true  sorrow ! 
Aiid  see  where  comes  the  breeder  of  my  sor- 
row ! 

Enter  Warwick. 

K.  Lew.  What 's   he  approacheth   boldly   to   our 
presence? 

42.  "waiteth  on  true  sorroiv";  Warburton,  "waiting  rues  to-mor- 
row."—l.  G. 

44.  "Enter  Warxcick."  The  part  which  Warwick  is  made  to  act 
in  this  scene,  though  amply  justified  by  the  C'liroiiicles,  seems  to  have 
little  or  no  foundation  in  fact.  The  king  w;is  privately  married  to 
the  lady  Elizabeth  Grey,  May  I,  1464,  and  there  was  no  open  rupture 
between  him  and  Warvxick  till  the  fall  of  14(58,  Ihouirh  the  elements 
had  long  been  secretly  preparing  for  a  storm.  The  causes  that 
finally  set  the  king-maker  so  fiercely  against  his  royal  creature  arc 
clouded  in  mystery;  perhaps,  as  hath  been  said,  "we  need  seek  no 
further  than  that  jealousy  and  ingratitude  which  is  too  often  expe- 
rienced in  those  who  are  under  obligations  too  great  to  be  dis- 
charged." For  settling  the  point  in  hand,  probably  the  best  we 
can  do  is  to  quote  from  Dr.  Lingard.  "Many  writers,"  says  he, 
"tell  us  that  the  enmity  of  Warwick  arose  from  his  disappointment, 
caused  by  Edward's  clandestine  marriage  with  Elizabeth.  If  we 
may  believe  them,  the  earl  was  at  that  very  time  in  France,  nego- 
tiating on  the  part  of  the  king  a  marriage  with  Bona  of  Savoy,  sister 
to  the  queen  of  France;  and,  having  succeeded  in  his  mission, 
brought  back  with  him  the  count  of  Dampmartin  as  ambassador  from 
Louis.  To  me  this  whole  story  appears  a  fiction.  1.  It  is  not  to  be 
found  in  the  more  ancient  historians.  2.  Warwick  was  not  at  that 
time  in  France.  On  the  -'0th  of  April,  ten  days  before  the  marriage, 
he  was  employed  in  negotiating  a  truce  with  the  French  envoys  in 
London,  and  on  the  v?6th  of  May,  about  three  weeks  after  it,  was 
appointed  to  treat  of  another  truce  with  the  king  of  Scots.    Nor 

89 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Q.  Mar.  Our  Earl  of  Warwick,  Edward's  greatest 

friend. 
K.  Lew,  Welcome,  brave  Warwick!    What  brings 
thee  to  France? 

[He  descends.     She  ariseth. 
Q.  Mar.  Aye,  now  begins  a  second  storm  to  rise ; 
For  this  is  he  that  moves  both  wind  and  tide. 
War.  From  worthy  Edward,  king  of  Albion, 
My  lord  and  sovereign,  and  thy  vowed  friend, 
I  come,  in  kindness  and  unfeigned  love,  51 

First,  to  do  greetings  to  thy  royal  i^erson; 
And  then  to  crave  a  league  of  amity ; 
And  lastly,  to  confirm  that  amity 
With  nuptial  knot,  if  thou  vouchsafe  to  grant 
That  virtuous  Lady  Bona,  thy  fair  sister, 
To  England's  king  in  lawful  marriage. 
Q.  Mar.  [Aside]  If   that   go    forward,    Henry's 

hope  is  done. 
War.  [To  Bona]  And,  gracious  madam,  in  our 
king's  behalf,  ^^ 

I  am  commanded,  with  your  leave  and  favor, 
Humbly  to  kiss  your  hand,  and  with  my  tongue 
To  tell  the  passion  of  my  sovereign's  heart; 
Where  fame,  late  entering  at  his  heedful  ears, 
Hath  placed  thy  beauty's  image  and  thy  vir- 
tue. 
Q.  Mar.  King  Lewis  and  Lady  Bona,  hear  me 
speak, 
Before  you  answer  Warwick.    His  demand 

could  he  bring  Darapmartin  with  him  to  England;  for  that  noble- 
man was  committed  a  prisoner  to  the  Bastile  in  September,  1463,  and 
remained  there  till  May,  1465."— H.  N.  H. 

45.  "Ouf'j  Collier  MS.,  "The";  Vaughan  conj.  "Proud."— I.  G. 

90 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

Springs  not  from  Edward's  well-meant  honest 

love, 
But  from  deceit  bred  by  necessity; 
For  how  can  tyrants  safely  govern  home, 
Unless  abroad  they  purchase  great  alliance  ?    ^0 
To  prove  him  tyrant  this  reason  may  suffice, 
That  Henry  liveth  still;  but  were  he  dead, 
Yet  here  Prince  Edward  stands,  King  Henry's 

son. 
Look,  therefore,  Lewis,  that  by  this  league  and 

marriage 
Thou  draw  not  on  thy  danger  and  dishonor; 
For  though  usurpers  sway  the  rule  a  while, 
Yet   heavens   are   just,   and   time   suppresseth 

wrongs. 
Wa?\  Injurious  jNIargaret! 
Prince.  And  why  not  queen? 

War.  Because  thy  father  Henry  did  usurp; 

And    thou    no    more    art    prince    than    she    is 

queen.  ^^ 

Oxf.  Then    Warwick    disannuls    great    John    of 

Gaunt, 
Which  did  subdue  the  greatest  part  of  Spain; 
And,  after  John  of  Gaunt,  Henry  the  Fourth, 
Whose  wisdom  Avas  a  mirror  to  the  wisest ; 
And,  after  that  wise  prince,  Henry  the  Fifth, 
Who  by  his  prowess  conquered  all  France : 

75.  "tluj";  Johnson,  "thee."— I.  G. 

S2.  This  error  was  not  derived  from  Ilolinshed.  Gaunt  in  reality 
obtained  only  a  few  transient  successes  in  Spain.  Mr.  Daniel  sug- 
gests that  "popular  belief  may  have  magnified  these  successes";  quot- 
ing the  title  of  a  play  known  only  from  Henslowe's  Diary:  The 
Conquest  of  Spai/ne  by  John  a  Oant  (Apr.  11,  1601). — C.  H.  H. 

91 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

From  these  our  Henry  lineally  descends. 
War.  Oxford,  how  haps  it,  in  this  smooth  dis- 
course. 
You  told  not  how  Henry  the  Sixth  hath  lost 
All  that  which  Henry  the  Fifth  had  gotten?  90 
Methinks  these  peers  of  France  should  smile  at 

that. 
But  for  the  rest,  you  tell  a  pedigree 
Of  threescore  and  two  years;  a  silly  time 
To  make  prescription  for  a  kingdom's  worth. 
Occf.  Why,  Warwick,  canst  thou  speak  against  thy 
liege. 
Whom  thou  obey'st  thirty  and  six  years, 
And  not  bewray  thy  treason  with  a  blush? 
War.  Can  Oxford,  that  did  ever  fence  the  right. 
Now  buckler  falsehood  with  a  pedigree? 
For  shame!  leave   Henry,   and   call   Edward 
king.  100 

Oa^f.  Call  him  my  king  by  whose  injurious  doom 
My  elder  brother,  the  Lord  Aubrey  Vere, 
Was  done  to  death?  and  more  than  so,  my 

father. 
Even  in  the  downfall  of  his  mellow'd  years, 
When  nature  brought  him  to  the  door  of  death  ? 

96.  "thirty  and  six  years";  Qq.,  "thirtie  and  eight";  the  correct 
number,  according  to  Malone. — I.  G. 

102.  This  was  during  Edward's  first  parliament,  in  1461,  and  is 
thus  mentioned  in  the  Chronicles:  "The  earle  of  Oxford,  far  striken 
in  age,  and  his  sonne  and  he! re,  the  lord  Awbreie  Veer  either  through 
malice  or  their  enimies,  or  for  that  they  had  offended  the  king,  were 
both,  with  diverse  or  their  counsellors,  attainted  and  put  to  execu- 
tion; which  caused  John  earle  of  Oxford  ever  after  to  rebell." — It 
will  not  be  amiss  to  add,  that  this  little  speech,  relishing  so  choicely 
of  Shakespeare,  is  but  very  slightly  altered  from  the  quarto. — H. 
N.  H. 

92 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  m. 

No,  Warwick,  no;  while  life  upholds  this  arm, 
This  arm  upholds  the  house  of  Lancaster. 

War.  And  1  the  house  of  York. 

K,  Lew.  Queen  JNIargaret,  Prince  Edward,  and 
Oxford, 
Vouchsafe,  at  our  request,  to  stand  aside,      HO 
While  I  use  further  conference  with  Warwick. 

[They  stand  aloof. 

Q.  Mar.  Heavens  grant  that  Warwick's  words  be- 
witch him  not! 

K.  Lew.  Now,  Warwick,  tell  me,  even  ui^on  thy 
conscience. 
Is  Edward  your  true  king?  for  I  were  loath 
To  link  with  him  that  were  not  lawful  chosen. 

War.  Thereon  I  pawn  my  credit  and  mine  honor. 

K.  Lew.  But  is  he  gracious  in  the  people's  eye? 

War.  The  more  that  Henry  was  unfortunate. 

K.  Lew.  Then  further,  all  dissembling  set  aside, 
Tell  me  for  truth  the  measure  of  his  love      1-0 
Unto  our  sister  Bona. 

War.  Such  it  seems 

As  may  beseem  a  monarch  like  himself. 
]VIyself  have  often  heard  him  say  and  swear 
That  this  his  love  was  an  eternal  plant. 
Whereof  the  root  was  fix'd  in  virtue's  ground. 
The  leaves  and  fruit  maintain' d  with  beauty's 

sun. 
Exempt  from  envy,  but  not  from  disdain. 
Unless  the  Lady  Bona  quit  his  pain. 

124.  "an  eternal  plant";  Warburton's  emendation  (from  Qq.);  Ff. 
read  "an  exiemall  p.";  Haniucr,  "a  perennial  p." — I.  G. 

\21.  "Exempt  from  envy,  but  not  from  disilain";  i.  e.  not  liable  to 
malice  or  hatred,  altho'  not  secured  from  female  disdain. — I.  G. 

93 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

K,  Lew.  Now,  sister,  let  us  hear  your  firm  resolve. 
Bona.  Your  grant,  or  your  denial,  shall  be  mine: 
[To  War.']  Yet  I  confess  that  often  ere  this 
day,  131 

When    I   have   heard  your   king's   desert   re- 
counted, 
Mine  ear  hath  tempted  judgment  to  desire. 
K.  Lew.  Then,  Warwick,  thus:  our  sister  shall  be 
Edward's : 
And  now  forthwith  shall  articles  be  drawn 
Touching  the  jointure  that  your  king  must 

make. 
Which  with  her  dowry  shall  be  counterpoised. 
Draw  near.  Queen  Margaret,  and  be  a  witness 
That  Bona  shall  be  wife  to  the  English  king. 
Prince.  To  Edward,  but  not  to  the  English  king. 
Q.Mar.  Deceitful  Warwick !  it  was  thy  device  141 
By  this  alliance  to  make  void  my  suit: 
Before  thy  coming  Lewis  was  Henry's  friend. 
K.  Lew.  And  still  is  friend  to  him  and  Margaret; 
But  if  your  title  to  the  crown  be  weak, 
As  may  appear  by  Edward's  good  success. 
Then  'tis  but  reason  that  I  be  released 
From  giving  aid  which  late  I  promised. 
Yet  shall  you  have  all  kindness  at  my  hand 
That  your  estate  requires  and  mine  can  yield. 
War.  Henry  now  lives  in  Scotland  at  his  ease,  151 
Where  having  nothing,  nothing  can  he  lose. 
And  as  for  you  yourself,  our  quondam  queen, 
You  have  a  father  able  to  maintain  you ; 

133.  "tempted";  Vaughan,  "'temper'd"—!.  G. 

94 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  iii. 

And    better    'twere    you    troubled    him    than 
France. 
Q.  Mar,  Peace,  impudent  and  shameless  Warwick, 
peace, 
Proud  setter  up  and  puller  down  of  kings ! 
I  will  not  hence,  till,  with  my  talk  and  tears, 
Both  full  of  truth,  I  make  King  Lewis  behold 
Thy    sly    conveyance,    and    thy    lord's    false 
love ;  160 

For  both  of  you  are  birds  of  selfsame  feather. 

[Post  blows  a  horn  within. 
K,  Lew,  Warwick,  this  is  some  post  to  us  or  thee. 

Enter  a  Post, 

Post.  [To  War.~\  My  lord  ambassador,  these  let- 
ters are  for  you, 
Sent  from  your  brother,  Marquess  Montague: 
[To  Lewisi  These  from  our  king  unto  your  ma- 
jesty: 
[To  Margaret^  And,  madam,  these  for  you; 
from  whom  I  know  not. 

[They  all  read  their  letters, 
Oocf.  I  like  it  well  that  our  fair  queen  and  mistress 
Smiles  at  her  news,  while  Warwick  frowns  at 
his. 
Prince.  Nay,  mark  how  Lewis  stamps,  as  he  were 
nettled : 
I  hope  all 's  for  the  best.  170 

K.  Lew.  Warwick,  w^hat  are  thy  news?  and  yours, 
fair  queen? 

156.  "Wanoick,  peace";  the  reading  of  Ff.  2,  3,  4;  F.   1,  "War- 
wick."—I.  G. 

95 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Q.  Mar.  Mine,  such  as  fill  my  heart  with  unhoped 

joys. 

War.  Mine,  full  of  sorrow  and  heart's  discontent. 

K,  Lew.  What!  has  your  king  married  the  Lady 
Grey? 
And  now,  to  soothe  your  forgery  and  his, 
Sends  me  a  paper  to  persuade  me  patience? 
Is  this  the  alliance  that  he  seeks  with  France  ? 
Dare  he  presume  to  scorn  us  in  this  manner? 

Q.  Mar.  I  told  your  majesty  as  much  before: 

This   proveth   Edward's   love   and   Warwick's 
honesty.  180 

War.  King   Lewis,    I    here   protest,  in   sight   of 
heaven, 
And  by  the  hope  I  have  of  heavenly  bliss, 
That  I  am  clear  from  this  misdeed  of  Edvvard's, 
No  more  my  king,  for  he  dishonors  me. 
But  most  himself,  if  he  could  see  his  shame. 
Did  I  forget  that  by  the  house  of  York 
My  father  came  untimely  to  his  death? 
Did  I  let  pass  the  abuse  done  to  my  niece? 
Did  I  impale  him  with  the  regal  crown? 
Did  I  put  Henry  from  his  native  right?        190 
And  am  I  guerdon'd  at  the  last  with  shame  ? 
Shame  on  himself!  for  my  desert  is  honor: 

187.  This  is  a  mistalte.  Salisbury  was  wounded  and  taken  prisoner 
by  the  Lancastrians  in  the  battle  of  Wakefield;  was  soon  after  be- 
headed, and  his  head,  along  with  York's,  set  upon  the  gates  of  York. 
— H.  N.  H. 

188.  "King  Edward  did  attempt  a  thing  once  in  the  earles  house, 
which  was  much  against  the  earles  honestie,  (whether  he  would  have 
deflowred  his  daughter  or  his  veece,  the  certaintie  was  not  for  both 
their  honours  revealed,)  for  surely  such  a  thing  was  attempted  by 
king  Edward,"— //o/fns/fed.—H.  n!  H. 

96 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  in.  Sc.  ul 

And  to  repair  my  honor  lost  for  him, 
I  here  renounce  him  and  return  to  Henry. 
My  noble  queen,  let  former  grudges  pass, 
And  henceforth  I  am  thy  true  servitor : 
I  will  revenge  his  wrong  to  Lady  Bona, 
And  replant  Henry  in  his  former  state. 
Q.  Mar.  Warwick,  these  words  have  turn'd  my 

hate  to  love; 
And  I  forgive  and  quite  forget  old  faults,    200 
And   joy  that  thou   becomest   King   Henry's 

friend. 
War,  So   much   his    friend,   aye,   his   unfeigned 

friend, 
That,  if  King  Lewis  vouchsafe  to  furnish  us 
With  some  few  bands  of  chosen  soldiers, 
I  '11  undertake  to  land  them  on  our  coast. 
And  force  the  tyrant  from  his  seat  by  war. 
'Tis  not  his  new-made  bride  shall  succor  him: 
And  as  for  Clarence,  as  my  letters  tell  me. 
He  's  very  likely  now  to  fall  from  him. 
For    matching    more    for    wanton    lust    than 

honor,  ^^^ 

Or  than  for  strength  and  safety  of  our  country. 
Bona.  Dear  brother,  how  shall  Bona  be  revenged 

But  by  thy  help  to  this  distressed  queen? 
Q.  Mar.  Renowned  prince,  how  shall  poor  Henry 

live. 
Unless  thou  rescue  him  from  foul  despair? 
Bona.  ISly  quarrel  and  this  English  queen's  are 

one. 
War.  And  mine,  fair  Lady  Bona,  joins  with  yourSc 

97 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

K.  Lew.  Aiid  mine  ^vith  hers,  and  thine,  and  JSIar- 
garet's. 
Therefore  at  last  I  firmly  am  resolved 
You  shall  have  aid.  220 

Q.  Mar,  Let  me  give  humble  thanks  for  all  at  once. 
K,  Lew.  Then,  England's  messenger,  return  in 
post, 
And  tell  false  Edward,  thy  supposed  king, 
That  Lewis  of  France  is  sending  over  masquers. 
To  revel  it  with  him  and  his  new  bride : 
Thou    seest   what 's   past,    go    fear   thy   king 
withal. 
Bona.  Tell  him,  in  hope  he  '11  prove  a  widower 
shortly, 
I  '11  wear  the  willow  garland  for  his  sake. 
Q.  Mar.  Tell  liim,  my  mourning  weeds  are  laid 
aside. 
And  I  am  ready  to  put  armor  on.  230 

War.  Tell  him  from  me  that  he  hath  done  me 
wrong, 
And  therefore  I  '11  uncrown  him  ere  't  be  long. 
There  's  thy  reward :  be  gone.  [Exit  Post. 

K.  Lew.  But,  Warwick, 

Thou  and  Oxford,  with  five  thousand  men 

228.  "I'll,"  Capell  (from  Qq) ;  Ff.  read  "I."— I.  G. 

233,  234.  "But,  Warwick,  Thou  and  Oxford,  with  five  thousand 
men";  Theobald,  "But,  Warwick,  Thyself  and  .  .  .  men";  Han- 
mer,  ''Bitt  Warvnck,  thou  Thyself  and  .  .  .  men";  Steevens,  "But, 
Warwick,  thou  And  .  .  .  men";  Collier  MS.,  "But,  Warwick,  thou 
And  .  .  .  warlike  men";  Kelghtley,  "But,  Warwick,  Thou  and 
Lord  .  .  .  men";  Anon.  conj.  "But,  Warwick,  thou  And  .  .  . 
men  of  m.ine."  Perhaps,  as  an  anonymous  scholar  has  suggested,  the 
line  should  be  read  as  an  Alexandrine. — I.  G. 


98 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  III.  Sc.  m. 

Shall  cross  the  seas,  and  bid  false  Edward  bat- 
tle; 
And  as  occasion  serves,  this  noble  queen 
And  prince  shall  follow  with  a  fresh  supply. 
Yet,  ere  thou  go,  but  answer  me  one  doubt, 
What  pledge  have  we  of  thy  firm  loyalty  ? 
fVar,  This  shall  assure  my  constant  loyalty,        240 
That  if  our  queen  and  this  young  prince  agree, 
I  '11  join  mine  eldest  daughter  and  my  joy 
To  him  forthwith  in  holy  wedlock  bands. 
Q.  Mar.  Yes,  I  agree,  and  thank  you  for  your  mo- 
tion. 
Son  Edward,  she  is  fair  and  virtuous, 
Therefore  delay  not,  give  thy  hand  to  War- 
wick ; 
And,  with  th}^  hand,  thy  faith  irrevocable, 
That  only  Warwick's  daughter  shall  be  thine. 
Prince.  Yes,  I  accept  her,  for  she  well  deserves  it; 
And   here,    to   pledge   my    vow,    I    give    my 
hand.  250 

\_He  gives  his  hand  to  Warwick. 
K.  Letv.  Why  stay  we  now?    These  soldiers  shall 
be  levied. 
And  thou,  Lord  Bourbon,  our  high  admiral, 
Shalt  waft  them  over  with  cur  royal  fleet. 
I  long  till  Edward  fall  by  war's  mischance. 
For  mocking  marriage  with  a  dame  of  France. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Wanvick. 

9i2.  "Mine  eldest  davghter";  the  reading  of  Ff,  (following  Qq.); 
Theobald  (from  Ilolinshed),  "my  younger  d."  It  was,  however, 
Anne,  Warwick's  second  daughter,  whom  Edward  married.— I.  G. 

253.  "Shalt,"  the  reading  of  Ff.  2,  3,  4;  F.  1,  "Shall."— L  G. 

99 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

JVar.  I  came  from  Edward  as  ambassador, 
But  I  return  his  sworn  and  mortal  foe: 
Matter  of  marriage  was  the  charge  he  gave  me, 
But  dreadful  war  shall  answer  his  demand. 
Had  he  none  else  to  make  a  stale  but  me?    260 
Then  none  but  I  shall  turn  his  jest  to  sorrow. 
I  was  the  chief  that  raised  him  to  the  crown. 
And  I  '11  be  chief  to  bring  him  down  again : 
Not  that  I  pit}'  Henry's  misery, 
But  seek  revenge  on  Edward's  mockery. 

lExit. 


100 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  IV.  Sc.  l 


ACT  FOURTH 
Scene  I 

London.     The  palace. 

Enter  Gloucester,  Clarence,  Somerset  and 

Montague. 

Glou.  Now  tell  me,  brother  Clarence,  what  think 
you 
Of  this  new  marriage  with  the  Lady  Grey? 
Hath  not  our  brother  made  a  worthy  choice? 
Clar.  Alas,    you    know,    'tis    far    from   hence    to 
France ; 
How  could  he  stay  till  Warwick  made  return? 
Som.  My  lords,  forbear  this  talk;  here  comes  the 

king. 
Glou.  And  Iiis  well-chosen  bride. 
Clar.  I  mind  to  tell  him  plainly  what  I  think. 

Flourish.  Enter  King  Edward,  attended;  Lady 
Grey,  as  Queen;  Pembroke,  Stafford,  Hast- 
ings, and  others. 

K.  Edw.  Now,  brother  Clarence,  how  like  you  our 

choice, 
That  you  stand  pensive,  as  half  malcontent?    10 
Clar.  As  well  as  Lewis  of  France,  or  the  Earl  of 

Warwick, 

101 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Which  are  so  weak  of  courage  and  in  judg- 
ment 
That  they  '11  take  no  oif  ense  at  our  abuse. 
K.  Edw.  Sui3i30se   they   take   offense   without   a 
cause, 
They  are  but  Lewis  and  Warwick:  I  am  Ed- 
ward, 
Your  king  and  Warwick's,  and  must  have  my 
will. 
Glou.  And  shall  have  your  will,  because  our  king: 

Yet  hasty  marriage  seldom  proveth  well. 
K.  Edw.  Yea,  brother  Richard,  are  you  offended 

too? 
Glou.  Not  1 :  20 

No,  God  forbid  that  I  should  wish  them  sever'd 
Whom   God   hath   join'd   together;   aye,   and 

'twere  pity 
To  sunder  them  that  yoke  so  well  together. 
K.  Edw.  Setting  your   scorns  and  your  mislike 
aside. 
Tell  me  some  reason  why  the  Lady  Grey 
Should  not  become  my  wife  and  England's 

queen. 
And  you  too,  Somerset  and  Montague, 
Speak  freely  what  you  think. 
Clar.  Then  this  is  mine  opinion:  that  King  Lewis 
Becomes  your  enemy,  for  mocking  him         30 
About  the  marriage  of  the  Lady  Bona. 

13.  "our";  Capell,  "your."— I.  G. 

17.  "And  shall";  Rowe,  "And  you  shall";  Walker,  "Ay,  and  shall,'* 
or  "Marry,  and  shall." — I.  G. 


102 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  iv.  Sc.  L 

Glou.  Aiid    Warwick,    doing   what    you    gave    in 
charge, 
Is  now  dishonored  hy  this  new  marriage. 
K.  Edic.  What  if  both  Lewis  and  Warwick  be  ap- 
peased 
By  such  invention  as  I  can  devise? 
Mont.  Yet,  to  have  join'd  with  France  in  such  al- 
hance 
Would  more  have  strengthen'd  this  our  com- 
monwealth 
'Gainst  foreimi  storms  than  any  home-bred  mar- 
riage. 
Hast.  Why,  knows  not  Montague  that  of  itself 

England  is  safe,  if  true  withhi  itself?  -i^ 

Mont.  But  the  safer  when  'tis  back'd  with  France. 
Hast.  'Tis    better    using    France    than    trusting 
France : 
Let  us  be  back'd  with  God  and  wdth  the  seas, 
Which  he  hath  given  for  fence  impregnable. 
And  with  their  helps  only  defend  ourselves ; 
In  them  and  in  ourselves  our  safety  lies. 
Clar.  For  this  one  speech  Lord  Hastings  well  de- 
serves 
To  have  the  heir  of  the  Lord  Hungerford. 
K.  Edzv.  Aye,  what  of  that?  it  was  my  will  and 
grant ; 
And  for  this  once  my  will  shall  stand  for  law.  50 

41.  '•Hut  the  safer";  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Yes,  but  the  safer."  S.  Walker 
conj.  "But  then  the  safer";  Kciohtley,  "Aij,  but  (he  safer";  Anon, 
conj.  "But  yet  the  safer";  yaughan,  "But  all  the  safer";  F.  2, 
"safter."—!.  *G. 

i2.  "using";  yaughan,  "losing." — I.  G. 


103 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIKD  PART  OF 

Glou.  And  yet  methinks  your  grace  hath  not  done 
well, 
To  give  the  heir  and  daughter  of  Lord  Scales 
Unto  the  brother  of  your  loving  bride; 
She  better  would  have  fitted  me  or  Clarence: 
But  in  your  bride  you  bury  brotherhood. 

Clar.  Or  else  you  would  not  have  bestow'd  the  heir 
Of  the  Lord  Bonville  on  your  new  wife's  son, 
And  leave  your  brothers  to  go  speed  elsewhere. 

K.  Edw.  Alas,  poor  Clarence !  is  it  for  a  wife 
That    thou    art    malcontent?     I    will    provide 
thee.  60 

Clar,  In  choosing  for  yourself,  you  show'd  your 
judgment. 
Which  being  shallow,  you  shall  give  me  leave 
To  play  the  broker  in  mine  own  behalf; 
And  to  that  end  I  shortly  mind  to  leave  you. 

K,  Edw.  Leave  me,  or  tarry,  Edward  will  be  king, 
And  not  be  tied  unto  his  brother's  will. 

66.  Until  the  Restoration  minors  coming  into  possession  of  great 
estates  were  in  the  wardship  of  the  king,  who  bestowed  them  on 
his  favorites,  or  in  other  words  gave  them  up  to  plunder,  and  after- 
wards disposed  of  them  in  marriage  as  he  pleased. — H.  N.  H. 

68.  The  king's  advancement  of  his  wife's  family  is  thus  mentioned 
by  Holinshed:  "iiir  father  was  created  earle  Rivers,  and  made 
high  constable  of  England:  hir  brother,  lord  Anthonie,  was  married  to 
the  sole  heire  of  Thomas  lord  Scales:  sir  Thomas  Graie,  sonne  to  sir 
John  Graie,  the  queens  first  husband,  was  created  marquesse  of 
Dorset,  and  married  to  Cicelie,  heire  to  the  lord  Bonville."  In  fact, 
however,  the  queen's  son  Thomas  was  married  to  Anne,  the  king's 
niece,  daughter  and  heiress  to  the  duke  of  Exeter.  These  things 
were  done  in  the  spring  of  1465,  the  king's  marriage  having  been 
publicly  acknowledged  a  short  time  before,  and  the  queen  having 
been  introduced  at  court  and  crowned. — H.  N.  H. 

66.  "brother's";  Rowe's  emendation  o^  Ff.,  "Brothers";  Anon.  conj. 
*'hrothers\"—\.  G. 

104 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act.  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Q.  Eliz.  My  lords,  before  it  pleased  his  majesty 
To  raise  my  state  to  title  of  a  queen, 
Do  me  but  right,  and  you  must  all  confess 
That  I  was  not  ignoble  of  descent;  "^0 

And  meaner  than  myself  have  had  like  fortune. 
But  as  this  title  honors  me  and  mine, 
So  your  dislike,  to  whom  I  would  be  pleasing. 
Doth  cloud  my  joys  ^\'ith  danger  and  with  sor- 
row. 
K.  Edw.  My  love,   forbear  to   fawn  upon  their 
frowns : 
What  danger  or  what  sorrow  can  befall  thee, 
So  long  as  Edward  is  thy  constant  friend, 
And   their    true   sovereign,    whom   they    must 

obey  ? 
Nay,  whom  they  shall  obey,  and  love  thee  too, 
Unless  they  seek  for  hatred  at  my  hands;      80 
Which  if  they  do,  yet  will  I  keep  thee  safe. 
And  they  shall  feel  the  vengeance  of  my  wrath. 
Gtou.  I  hear,  yet  say  not  much,  but  think  the  more. 

lAsid^. 
Enter  a  Post. 

K.  Edw.  Now,  messenger,  what  letters  or  ^A'hat 

news 
From  France? 
Post.  My    sovereign    liege,    no    letters;    and    few 

words, 

70.  Her  father  was  Sir  Richard  Woodville,  afterwards  earl  of 
Rivers;  her  mother  Jaquetta,  duchess  dowaper  of  Bedford,  who 
was  daughter  of  Peter  of  Luxeniliurg,  earl  of  St.  Paul,  and  widow 
of  John  duke  of  Bedford,  brother  to  King  Henry  V. — H.  N.  H. 

73,  74.  "dislike  .  .  .  Doth";  Ff.,  "dislikes  .  .  .  Doth"; 
Rowe,  "dislikes    .    .    .    Do."— I.  G. 

105 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

But  such  as  I,  without  your  special  pardon, 
Dare  not  relate. 
K.  Edw.  Go  to,  we  pardon  thee :  therefore,  in  brief. 
Tell  me  their  words  as  near  as  thou  canst  guess 
them.  90 

What  answer  makes  King  Lewis  unto  our  let- 
ters? 
Post.  At  my  depart,  these  were  his  very  words: 
'Go  tell  false  Edward,  thy  supposed  king. 
That  Lewis  of  France  is  sending  over  mas- 
quers 
To  revel  it  with  him  and  his  new  bride.' 
K.  Edw.  Is  Lewis  so  brave?  behke  he  thinks  me 
Henry. 
But  what  said  Lady  Bona  to  my  marriage? 
Post.  These  were  her  words,  utter' d  with  mild  dis- 
dain: 
'Tell  him,  in  hope  he  '11  prove  a  widower  shortly, 
I  '11  wear  the  willow  garland  for  his  sake,'    100 
K.  Edw.  I  blame  not  her,  she  could  say  little  less; 
She  had  the  wrong.     But  what  said  Henry's 

queen  ? 
For  I  have  heard  that  she  was  there  in  place. 
Post.  'Tell  him,'  quoth  she,  'my  mourning  weeds 
are  done. 
And  I  am  ready  to  put  armor  on.' 
K.  Edw.  Belike  she  minds  to  play  the  Amazon. 

But  what  said  Warwick  to  these  injuries? 
Post.  He,  more  incensed  against  your  majesty 

89,  90.  "therefore,  in  brief,  Tell  me";  F.  1,  "Therefore,  in  brief e, 
tell  me";  Ft.  2,  3,  4,  "Therefore,  in  hriefe,  tell";  Pope,  "So  tell"— 
I.  G. 

93.  "thy";  Rowe  (from  Qq.);  Ff.,  "the."— I.  G. 

106 


KING  HENRY  VI  ^  Act.  iv.  Sc.  i. 

,    Than   all   the   rest,   diseharged  me  with   these 
words : 

'Tell    him    from    me    that    he   liath    done   me 
wrong,  110 

And  therefore  I  '11  uncrown  him  ere  't  be  long.' 
K,  Edxv.  Ha!  durst  the  traitor  breathe  out  so  proud 
words? 

Well,  I  will  arm  me,  being  thus  forewarn'd: 

They  shall  have  wars  and  pay  for  their  pre- 
sumption. 

But  say,  is  AVarwick  friends  with  JNIargaret? 
Post.  Aye,  gracious  sovereign;  they  are  so  link'd 
in  friendship. 

That  young  Prince  Edward  marries  Warwick's 
daughter. 
Clar.  Belike    the    elder;    Clarence    v»'ill    have    the 
younger. 

Now,  brother  king,  farewell,  and  sit  you  fast, 

For  I  will  hence  to  Warwick's  other  daugh- 
ter; I'-^O 

That,  though  I  want  a  kingdom,  yet  in  mar- 
riage 

I  may  not  prove  inferior  to  yourself. 

You  that  love  me  and.  War  wick,  follow  me. 

[EiTit  Clarence,  and  Somerset  folloios. 

us.  "elder  .  .  .  younger";  Ff.  (from  Qq.);  Theobald,  "younger 
.     .     .     elder."— I.  G. 

123.  Jolmson  has  remarked  upon  the  actunl  improliabiiity  of  Clar- 
ence making  this  speech  in  th.c  king's  hearing.  AViien  the  earl  of 
Essex  attempted  to  raise  a  re'>elIion  in  tiie  city,  with  a  design,  as  was 
supposed,  to  storm  the  queen's  palace,  he  ran  about  the  streets  with 
his  sword  drawn,  crying  out,  "They  that  love  rae,  follow  me." — 
H.  N.  H. 

Shk- 1-0.3  107 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Glou.  [Aside]  Not  I: 

My  thoughts  aim  at  a  further  matter ;  I 

Stay  not  for  the  love  of  Edward,  but  the  crown. 

K.  Edw.  Clarence  and  Somerset  both  gone  to  War- 
wick ! 
Yet  am  I  arm'd  against  the  worst  can  happen; 
And  haste  is  needful  in  this  desperate  case. 
Pembroke  and  Stafford,  you  in  our  behalf   130 
Go  levy  men,  and  make  prepare  for  war; 
They  are  already,  or  quickly  will  be  landed: 
Myself  in  person  will  straight  follow  you. 

lEcceunt  Pembroke  and  Stafford. 
But,  ere  I  go,  Hastings  and  Montague, 
Resolve  my  doubt.     You  twain,  of  all  the  rest, 
AiQ  near  to  Warwick  by  blood  and  by  alliance : 
Tell  me  if  you  love  Warwick  more  than  me ; 
If  it  be  so,  then  both  depart  to  him; 
I  rather  wish  you  foes  than  hollow  friends: 
But  if  you  mind  to  hold  your  true  obedience,  140 
Give  me  assurance  with  some  friendly  vow, 
That  I  may  never  have  you  in  suspect. 

Mont.  So  God  help  Montague  as  he  proves  true! 

Hast.  And  Hastings  as  he  favors  Edward's  cause! 

K.  Edw.  Now,  brother  Richard,  will  you  stand  by 
us? 

Glon.  Aye,  in  despite  of  all  that  shall  withstand 
you. 

K.  Edw,  Why,  so!  then  am  I  sure  of  victory. 
Now  therefore  let  us  hence ;  and  lose  no  hour, 
Till  we  meet  Warwick  with  his  foreign  power. 

[Exeunt. 

126.  "the  love";  Pope,  "love."— I.  G. 

128.  "Yet  am  I  arm'd";  Vaughan,  "Yet  am  I  warn'd."—T.  G. 

108 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  ii. 


Scene  II 

A  plain  in  Warwickshire. 

Enter  Warwick  and  OiVford,  with  French  soldiers. 

War.  Trust  me,  my  lord,  all  hitherto  goes  well ; 
The  common  people  by  numbers  swarm  to  us. 

Enter  Clarence  and  Somerset. 

But  see  where  Somerset  and  Clarence  comes! 
Speak  suddenly,  my  lords,  are  we  all  friends? 
Clar.  Fear  not  that,  mv  lord. 
War.  Then,  gentle  Clarence,  welcome  unto  War- 
wick ; 
And  welcome,  Somerset:  I  hold  it  cowardice 
To  rest  mistrustful  where  a  noble  heart 
Hath  pawn'd  an  open  hand  in  sign  of  love; 
Else  might  I  think  that  Clarence,  Edward's 
brother,  10 

Were  but  a  feigned  friend  to  our  proceedings: 
But   welcome,    sweet    Clarence;   my   daughter 

shall  be  thine. 
And  now  what  rests  but,  in  night's  coverture, 
Thy  brother  being  carelessly  encamp'd, 
His  soldiers  lurking  in  the  towns  about, 
And  but  attended  by  a  simple  guard. 
We  may  surprise  and  take  him  at  our  pleasure? 
Our  scouts  have  found  the  adventure  very  easy : 

\2.  "Sweet   Clarenct";   Pope,  "-friend";  Capell,   •'Clarence."     Many 
modern  editions  omit  "but." — I.  G. 

15.  "towns";  Theobald   (Thirlby  conj.);   Ff-,  "town."— I.  G. 

109 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

That  as  Ulysses  and  stout  Diomede 
With   sleight  and  manhood  stole   to   Rhesus' 
tents,  ^^ 

And  brought  from  thence  the  Thracian  fatal 

steeds, 
So  we,  well  cover'd  with  the  night's  black  man- 
tle. 
At  unawares  may  beat  down  Edward's  guard, 
And  seize  himself;  I  say  not,  slaughter  him, 
For  I  intend  but  only  to  surprise  him. 
You  that  will  follow  me  to  this  attempt. 
Applaud  the  name  of  Henry  with  your  leader. 

[They  all  cry,  'Henry!' 
Whj^  then,  let 's  on  our  way  in  silent  sort : 
For  Warwick  and  his  friends,  God  and  Saint 
George!  [Exeunt, 


Scene  III 

Edward's  camp,  near  Warwick, 

Enter  three  watchmeiij,  to  guard  the  King's  tent. 

First  Watch.  Come  on,  my  masters,  each  man  take 
his  stand: 
The  king  by  this  is  set  him  down  to  sleep. 
Second  Watch.  What,  will  he  not  to  bed? 

21.  It  had  been  prophesied  that  if  the  horses  of  the  Thracian 
Rhesus  drank  of  the  Xanthus  and  grazed  on  the  Trojan  plains,  the 
Greeks  would  never  take  Troy.  Wherefore  Diomede  and  Ulysses 
killed  him  at  night,  and  carried  off  his  horses.  Vide  Iliad,  x. ;  Ovid, 
Metamorphoses,  xiii.  98-108,  249-252.  Virgil,  ^neid,  i.  469-4T3.— 
I.  G. 

110 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 

First  Watch.  Why,  no;  for  he  hath  made  a  solenui 

Never  to  he  and  take  his  natural  rest, 
Till  Warwick  or  himself  be  quite  suppressed. 
Second  U^atch.  To-morrow  then  beHke  shall  be  the 
day, 
If  Warwick  be  so  near  as  men  report. 
Third  Watch.  But  say,  I  pray,  what  nobleman  is 
that, 
That  with  the  king  here  resteth  in  his  tent  ?      10 
First  Watch.  ^Tis  the  Lord  Hastings,  the  king's 

chief  est  friend. 
Third  Watch.  O,  is  it  so?     But  why  commands  the 
king 
That  his  chief  followers  lodge  in  towns  about 

him. 
While  he  himself  keeps  in  the  cold  field? 
Second  Watch.  'Tis  the  more  honor,  because  more 

dangerous. 
Third  Watch.  Aye,  but  give  me  worship  and  quiet- 
ness ; 
I  like  it  better  than  a  dangerous  honor. 
If  Warwick  knew  in  what  estate  he  stands, 
'Tis  to  be  doubted  he  would  waken  him. 
First  Watch.  Unless  our  halberds  did  shut  up  his 
passage.  20 

Second  Watch.  Aye,  wherefore  else  guard  we  his 
royal  tent. 
But  to  defend  his  person  from  night-foes  ? 

U.  "keeps";  so  Ff.  3,  4;  VL  1,  2,  "keepes";  Theobald  "keepeth"; 
Hanmer,  "keeps  here";  Vauglian,  "keeps  out";  Kcightley,  "field 
here."—\.  G. 

15.  "more  danejeroua" ;  so  Ff.  1,  9;  Ff.  3,  4,  "the  more  d.";  Han- 
mer, "dangerous." — I    G. 

Ill 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Enter  Warwick,  Clarence,  Oxford,  Somerset,  and 
French  soldiers,  silent  all. 

War,  This  is  his  tent;  and  see  where  stand  his 
guard. 
Courage,  my  masters!  honor  now  or  never! 
But  follow  me,  and  Edward  shall  be  ours. 
First  Watch.  Who  goes  there? 
Second  Watch.  Stay,  or  thou  diest ! 

[Warwick  and  the  rest  cry  all,  'Warwick! 
Warwick!'  and  set  upon  the  Guard,  who 
fly,  crying,  'Arm!  arm!'  Warwick  and 
the  rest  following  them. 

The  drum  playing  and  trumpet  sounding,  re-enter 
Warwick,  Somerset,  and  the  rest,  bringing  the 
King  out  in  his  gown,  sitting  in  a  chair.  Rich- 
ard and  Hastings  fly  over  the  stage. 

Som.  What  are  they  that  fly  there? 

War.  Richard  and  Hastings:  let  them  go;  here  is 
the  duke. 

K.  Edw.  The  duke!     Why,  Warwick,  v/hen  we 
parted,  ^^ 

Thou  call'dst  me  king. 

War.  Aye,  but  the  case  is  alter'd: 

When  you  disgraced  me  in  my  embassade, 
Then  I  degraded  you  from  being  king, 
And  come  now  to  create  you  Duke  of  York. 
Alas !  how  should  }'0u  govern  any  kingdom, 
That  know  not  how  to  use  ambassadors, 
Nor  how  to  be  contented  with  one  wife, 
Nor  how  to  use  your  brothers  brotherly. 
Nor  how  to  study  for  the  people's  welfare, 

112 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 

Nor  liow  to  shroud  yourself  from  enemies?      40 
K.  Edw,  Yea,  brother  of  Clarence,  art  thou  here 
too? 
Nay,  then  I  see  that  Edward  needs  must  down. 
Yet,  Warwick,  in  despite  of  all  mischance, 
Of  thee  thyself  and  all  thy  comi3lices, 
Edward  will  always  bear  himself  as  king: 
■/N   Though  fortune's  malice  overthrow  my  state, 
\  My  mind  exceeds  the  compass  of  her  wheel. 

y^^  War,  Then,  for  his  mind,  be  Edward  England's 
'  king:  [Takes  off  his  crown. 

But  Henry  now  shall  wear  the  Enghsh  crown, 
And  be  true  king  indeed,  thou  but  the  shadow. 
My  Lord  of  Somerset,  at  my  request,  51 

See  that  forthwith  Duke  Edward  be  convey'd 
Unto  my  brother.  Archbishop  of  York. 
When  I  have  fought  with  Pembroke  and  his 

fellows, 
I  '11  follow  you,  and  tell  what  answer 
Lewis  and  the  Lady  Bona  send  to  him. 
Now,  for  a  while  farewell,  good  Duke  of  York. 

[They  lead  him  off  forcibly. 
K.  Edw.  What  fates  impose,  that  men  must  needs 
abide ; 
It  boots  not  to  resist  both  wind  and  tide. 

[Eiit,  guarded. 

41.  "Yea,  brother  of  Clarence,  art  thou  here  too?";  Pope,  "Brother 
of  C,  and  art  Ihoii  here  too?";  Capell,  "Yea,  brother  of  C,  and  art 
thou  here  too?" — I.  G. 

55.  "tell  what  annwer";  Pope,  "tell  you  what  reply";  Capell,  "tell 
his  grace  what  ansirer";  Keiglilley,  "tell  him  what  ansicer";  .Anon, 
conj.  "tell  the  duke  what  answer";  Dyce,  "tell  him  there  what  answer." 
—I."  G. 

113 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iv.  THE  TIIIKD  PART  OF 

Oxf.  What  now  remains,  my  lords,  for  us  to  do,    60 
But  march  to  London  with  our  soldiers? 

War,  Aye,  that 's  the  first  thing  that  we  have  to  do ; 
To  free  King  Henry  from  imprisonment. 
And  see  him  seated  in  the  regal  throne. 

\_Exeunt. 

Scene  IV 

London,     The  palace. 
Enter  Queen  Elizabeth  and  Rivers. 

Riv.  Madam,  what  makes  j^ou  in  this  sudden 
change? 

Q.  Eliz.  Why,  brother  Rivers,  are  you  yet  to  learn 
What  late  misfortune  is  befall'n  King  Ed- 
ward? 

64.  This  capture  of  Edward  is  related  by  the  chroniclers  as  hav- 
ing taken  place  in  the  latter  part  of  14G9.  In  Holinshed  the  story 
runs  thus:  "After  the  battell  at  Hedgecote,  commonlie  called  Ban- 
berie  field,  the  northenie  men  resorted  toward  Warwike,  where  the 
earle  had  gathered  a  great  multitude  of  people.  The  king  in  this 
mane  time  had  assembled  his  power,  and  was  comming  toward  the 
earle,  who,  being  advertised  thereof,  sent  to  the  duke  of  Clarence, 
requiring  him  to  come  and  joine  with  him.  The  duke,  being  not 
farre  off,  with  all  speed  repaired  to  the  earle,  and  so  they  joined 
their  powerse  together,  upon  secret  knowledge  had,  that  the  king 
tooke  small  heed  to  himselfe,  nothing  doubting  anie  outward  attempt 
of  his  enimies.  The  earle,  intending  not  to  leese  such  opportunitie, 
in  the  dead  of  the  night,  with  an  elect  companie  of  men,  set  on 
the  kings  field,  killing  them  that  kept  the  watch,  and  yer  the  king 
was  ware,  at  a  place  called  Wolnie,  he  was  taken  prisoner  and 
brought  to  the  castell  of  Warwike.  And,  to  the  intent  his  friends 
should  not  know  what  was  become  of  him,  the  earle  caused  him 
by  secret  journies  in  the  night  to  be  conveied  to  Middleham  castell 
in  Yorkshire,  and  there  to  be  kept  under  the  custodie  of  the  arch- 
bishop of  Yorkc,  and  other  his  freends  in  those  parties." — H.  N.  H. 

114 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  iv. 

Riv,  What!  loss  of  some  pitch'd  battle  against 
Warwick  ? 

Q.  Eliz.  No,  but  the  loss  of  his  own  royal  person. 

Riv.  Then  is  my  sovereign  slain? 

Q.  Eliz.  Aye,  almost  slain,  for  he  is  taken  prisoner, 
Either  betray'd  by  falsehood  of  his  guard, 
Or  by  his  foe  surprised  at  unawares : 
And,  as  I  further  have  to  understand,  10 

Is  new  committed  to  the  Bishop  of  York, 
Fell  Warwick's  brother  and  bv  that  our  foe. 

Riv.  These  news  I  must  confess  are  full  of  grief; 
Yet,  gracious  madam,  bear  it  as  you  may : 
Warwick  may  lose,  that  now  hath  won  the  day. 

Q.  Eliz.  Till  then  fair  hope  must  hinder  life's  de- 
cay. 
And  I  the  rather  wean  me  from  despair 
For  love  of  Edward's  offspring  in  my  womb: 
This  is  it  that  makes  me  bridle  passion. 
And  bear  with  mildness  my  misfortune's  cross; 
Ave,  aye,  for  this  I  draw  in  many  a  tear         21 
And  stop  the  rising  of  blood-sucking  sighs, 
Lest  with  my  sighs  or  tears  I  blast  or  drown 
King  Edward's  fruit,  true  heir  to  the  English 
crown. 

Riv.  But,  madam,  where  is  AVarwick  then  become? 

Q.  Eliz.  I  am  inform'd  that  he  comes  towards  Lon- 
don, 
To  set  the  crown  once  more  on  Henry's  head: 

11.  "new  committed";  Rowc,  "»j()?r  committed." — I.  G. 

19.  "is  it  that  juakes  me  bridle  passion";  the  reading*  of  F.  1 ;  Ff, 
2,   3,   "i.*   it     .     .     .     my   passion";    F.   4,   "j*     .     .     .     mtj    passion"; 
Rowe,  "is  it     .     .     .     in  wu  passion";  Pope,  "is't     .     .     .     in  my  pas 
sion";  yauglian.  '"i.*  it.  vuikes     .     .     .     passion." — I.  G. 

115 


>• . 


Act  iV.  Sc.  V. 


THE  THIRD  PART  OF 


Guess  thou  the  rest;  King  Edward's  friends 

must  down. 
But,  to  prevent  the  tyrant's  violence, — 
For  trust  not  him  that  hath  once  broken  faith, — 
I  '11  hence  forthwith  unto  the  sanctuary,  31 

To  save  at  least  the  heir  of  Edward's  right: 
There  sliall  I  rest  secure  from  force  and  fraud. 
Come,  therefore,  let  us  fly  while  we  may  fly : 
If  Warwick  take  us  we  are  sure  to  die. 

[EiVeunt. 

Scene  V 

A  park  near  Middleham  Castle  in  Yorkshire. 

.Enter  Gloucester,  Lord  Hastings,  Sir  William 
Stanley,  and  othet^s. 

Glou.  Now,  my  Lord  Hastings  and  Sir  WiUiam 

Stanley, 
Leave  ofl*  to  wonder  why  I  di'ew  you  hither, 
Into  this  chief  est  thicket  of  the  park. 
Thus  stands  the  case:  you  know  our  king,  my 

brother. 
Is  prisoner  to  the  bishop  here,  at  whose  hands 
He  hath  good  usage  and  great  liberty. 
And,  often  but  attended  with  weak  guard. 
Comes  hunting  this  way  to  disport  himself. 
I  have  advertised  him  by  secret  means. 
That  if  about  this  hour  he  make  this  way         10 
Under  the  color  of  his  usual  game, 
He  shall  here  find  his  friends  with  horse  and 

men 


KI^^G  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  v. 

To  set  him  free  from  his  captivity. 

Enter  King  Edward  and  a  Huntsman  with  him. 

Hunt.  This  way,  my  lord;  for  this  way  Ues  the 

game. 
K.  Edw.  Nay,  this  way,  man :  see  where  the  hunts- 
men stand. 
Now,  brother  of  Gloucester,  Lord  Hastings, 

and  the  rest, 
Stand  you  thus  close,  to  steal  the  bishop's  deer? 
Glou.  Brother,  the  time  and  case  requireth  haste: 
Your  horse  stands  ready  at  the  park-corner. 
K.  Edw.  But  whither  shall  we  then? 
Hast.  To  Lynn,  my  lord. 

And  ship  from  thence  to  Flanders.  -1 

Glou,  Well  guess'd,  believe  me;  for  that  was  my 

meaning. 
K.  Edw.  Stanley,  I  will  requite  thy  forwardness. 
Glou.  But  wherefore  stay  we?  'tis  no  time  to  talk. 
K.  Edw.  Huntsman,  what  say'st  thou?  wilt  thou  go 
along  ? 

13,  So  in  Holinshed:  "King  Edward,  being  thus  in  captivitie, 
spake  ever  faire  to  the  archbishop,  and  to  his  other  keepers,  so  that 
he  had  leave  diverse  daies  to  go  hunt.  Now  on  a  doie,  when  he 
was  thus  abrode,  there  met  with  him  sir  William  Stanlie  and  di- 
verse other  of  his  friends,  with  such  a  great  band  of  men,  tiiat 
neither  his  keepers  would  nor  once  durst  move  him  to  returne  unto 
prison  againe.  After  that  he  was  once  at  libcrtie,  he  came  to  Yorke, 
where  he  was  joifullie  received,  and  taried  tiiere  two  daies;  but  when 
he  perceived  he  could  get  no  armie  togithcr  in  that  countrie,  he 
turned  to  Lancaster,  where  he  found  his  chamberlaine  the  lord  Hast- 
ings well  accompanied,  by  whose  aid  he  came  safelie  to  London." — 
H.  N.  H. 

16.  "brother  of  Gloucester,  Lord  Uastimis";  Pope,  ''brother  Gh's- 
ter,  Hastings";  Collier  MS.,  "brother  of  Oloster,  IJast!i)fts."—l.  G. 

21.  "Flanders";  Vaughan  suggests  the  addition  of  tlie  ^words,  "as 
1  ffuess."—!.  G. 

117 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vi.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Hunt.  Better  do  so  than  tarry  and  be  hang'd. 
GIou.  Come  then,  away ;  let 's  ha'  no  more  ado. 
K.  Edzv.  Bishop,  farewell:  shield  thee  from  War- 
wick's frown; 
And  pray  that  I  may  repossess  the  crown. 

\_Ea^eunt. 

Scene  VI 

London.     The  Tower. 

Flourish.  Enter  King  Henry,  Clarence,  War- 
wick, Somerset,  young  Richmond,  Oxford, 
Montague,  and  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower. 

K.  Hen.  Master  lieutenant,   now   that   God   and 
friends 
Have  shaken  Edward  from  the  regal  seat, 
And  turn'd  my  captive  state  to  liberty, 

29.  The  whole  matter  of  Edward's  captivity  and  escape  has  been 
set  aside  by  later  writers  as  a  fiction  of  the  chroniclers.  Here 
again  the  great  learning  and  exemplary  candor  of  Dr.  Lingard  will 
amply  warrant  our  quoting  him.  "By  modern  writers,"  says  he,  "the 
captivity  of  Edward  has  been  scornfully  rejected.  Hume  says  it  is 
contradicted  by  records.  Carte  and  Henry  pronounce  it  incredible 
and  romantic.  But,  if  it  were,  they  should  have  accounted  for  what 
in  that  case  were  more  inconceivable,  the  mention  which  is  made  of 
it  by  almost  every  writer  of  the  age,  whether  foreigner  or  native; 
even  by  Comines,  who  says  that  he  received  the  principal  incidents 
of  Edward's  history  from  the  mouth  of  Edward  himself;  and  by 
the  annalist  of  Croyland,  who  was  high  in  the  confidence  of  that 
monarch.  But  there  is  a  record  which  places  the  imprisonment  be- 
yond a  doubt,  the  attainder  of  Clarence,  in  which  the  king  enumerates 
it  among  his  offences:  'as  in  jupartyng  the  king's  royall  estate,  persona 
and  life  in  straile  warde,  putting  him  thereby  from  all  his  libertie,  aftre 
procurying  grete  commocions.' "  Perhaps  we  should  add  that  Hume's 
argument  proceeds  on  the  supposition,  that  the  alleged  captivity  was 
in  1470,  and  is  entirely  nonsuited   by  referring  to  the  true  date, 

IIB 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  vi. 

My  fear  to  hope,  my  sorrows  unto  joys, 
At  our  enlargement  what  are  thy  due  fees? 

Lieu.  Subjects  may  challenge  nothing  of  their  sov- 
ereigns ; 
But  if  an  humble  prayer  may  prevail, 
I  then  crave  pardon  of  your  majesty. 

K.  Hen.  For  what,  lieutenant?  for  well  using  me? 
Nay,  be  thou  sure  I  '11  well  requite  thy  kind- 
ness, 1^ 
For  that  it  made  my  imprisonment  a  pleasure; 
Aye,  such  a  pleasure  as  incaged  birds 
Conceive,  when  after  many  moody  thoughts, 
At  last,  by  notes  of  household  harmony. 
They  quite  forget  their  loss  of  liberty. 
But,  Warwick,  after  God,  thou  set'st  me  free, 
And  chiefly  therefore  I  thank  God  and  thee; 
He  was  the  author,  thou  the  instrument. 
Therefore,  that  I  may  conquer  fortune's  spite 
By  living  low,  where  fortune  cannot  hurt  me,  20 
And  that  the  people  of  this  blessed  land 
May  not  be  punish'd  with  my  thwarting  stars, 
Warwick,    although   my    head    still   wear    the 

crown, 
I  here  resign  my  government  to  thee, 
For  thou  are  fortunate  in  all  thv  deeds. 

War.  Your  grace  hath  still  been  famed  for  vir- 
tuous ; 
And  now  may  seem  as  wise  as  virtuous, 

wliioh  was  the  latter  part  of  14-C9.  Its  not  being  mentioned  in  the 
king's  proclamation  against  Clarence  in  1470,  nowise  proves  the 
point;  for  on  the  Christmas  before  Clarence  had  a  full  pardon,  and 
that  proclamation  refers  only  to  offenses  committed  after  the  pardon 
was  granted. — H.  X.   H. 

119 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vi.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

By  spying  and  avoiding  fortune's  malice, 
For  few  men  rightly  temper  with  the  stars: 
Yet  in  this  one  thing  let  me  blame  your  grace,  30 
For  choosing  me  when  Clarence  is  in  place. 
Clar.  No,  Warwick,  thou  are  worthy  of  the  sway, 
To  whom  the  heavens  in  thy  nativity 
Adjudged  an  olive  branch  and  laurel  crown. 
As  likely  to  be  blest  in  peace  and  war; 
And  therefore  I  yield  thee  my  free  consent. 
War.  And  I  choose  Clarence  only  for  protector. 
K.  Hen.  Warv/ick  and  Clarence,  give  me  both  your 
hands : 
Now  join  your  hands,  and  with  your  hands  your 

hearts, 
That  no  dissension  hinder  government :  40 

I  make  you  both  protectors  of  this  land. 
While  I  myself  will  lead  a  private  life. 
And  in  devotion  spend  my  latter  days. 
To  sin's  rebuke  and  my  Creator's  praise. 
War.  What  answers  Clarence  to  his  sovereign's 

will? 
Clar.  That  he  consents,  if  Warwick  yield  consent; 

For  on  thy  fortune  I  repose  myself. 
War.  Why,  then,  though  loath,  yet  must  I  be  con- 
tent: 
We  '11  yoke  together,  like  a  double  shadow 
To  Henry's  body,  and  supply  his  place;         50 
I  mean,  in  bearing  weight  of  government. 
While  he  enjoys  the  honor  and  his  ease. 
And,  Clarence,  now  then  it  is  more  than  needful 

29.  Few  men  accommodate  themselves  to  their  destiny,  or  adapt 
themselves  to  circumstances. — H.  N.  H. 

120 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  vi. 

Forthwitli  that  Edward  be  pronounced  a  traitor, 

And  all  his  lands  and  goods  be  confiscate. 
Clar,  What  else?  and  that  succession  be  determined. 
War.  Aye,  therein  Clarence  shall  not  want  his  part. 
K.  Hen.  But,  with  the  first  of  all  your  chief  affairs, 

Let  me  entreat,  for  I  command  no  more. 

That  Margaret  your  queen  and  my  son  Ed- 
ward 60 

Be  sent  for,  to  return  from  France  with  speed ; 

For,  till  I  see  them  here,  by  doubtful  fear 

My  joy  of  liberty  is  half  eclipsed. 
Clar.  It  shall  be  done,  my  sovereign,  with  all  speed. 
K.  Hen.  My  Lord  of  Somerset,  what  youth  is  that, 

Of  whom  vou  seem  to  have  so  tender  care  ? 
Som.  My  hege,  it  is  young  Henry,  earl  of  Rich- 
mond. 

55.  "be  confiscate";  Malone's  emendation;  F.  1,  "confiscate";  Ft. 
2,  3,  4,  "confiscated."—!.  G. 

67.  This  "young  Henry,"  then  in  his  tenth  year,  was  son  to  Ed- 
mund Tudor,  earl  of  Richmond,  and  Margaret,  daughter  and  heir 
to  John  Beaufort,  first  duke  of  Somerset.  Edmund,  again,  was  son 
to  Katharine,  widow  of  Henry  Y,  by  her  second  husband,  Owen 
Tudor,  an  untitled  gentleman  of  Wales.  The  groundwork  of  the 
present  representation  was  furnished  by  the  chroniclers.  The  occa- 
sion was  this:  The  young  earl's  uncle,  Jasper  Tudor,  brought  his 
nephew  to  London,  and  introduced  him  to  King  Henry,  soon  after 
the  latter  was  released  from  the  Tower;  "whome,"  says  Holinshed, 
"when  the  king  had  a  good  while  beheld,  he  said  to  such  princes  as 
were  with  him, — 'Lo,  surelie  this  is  he,  to  whom  both  we  and  our 
adversaries,  lea\'ing  the  possession  of  all  things,  shall  hereafter  give 
roome  and  place.'  So  that  it  might  seeme  probable,  by  the  colier- 
cnce  of  holie  Henries  prediction  with  the  issue  falling  out  in  truth, 
that  for  the  time  he  was  indued  with  a  propiieticall  spirit."  It  is 
said  that  after  the  carl  became  King  Henry  VII,  in  gratitude  for  this 
early  presage  he  solicited  the  pope  to  enroll  Henry  VI  among  the 
saints  of  tl>e  Church;  but  was  refused,  cither  because  he  would  not 
pay  the  price,  or  as  Bacon  supposes,  lest,  "as  Henry  was  reputed 
in  the  world  abroad  but  for  a  simple  man,  tlie  estimation  of  that 

121 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vi.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

K.  Hen,  Come  hither,  England's  hope.   [Lays  his 
hand  on  his  head]    If  secret  powers 
Suggest  but  truth  to  my  divining  thoughts, 
This  pretty  lad  will  prov^e  our  country's  bliss.  '^0 
His  looks  are  full  of  peaceful  majesty, 
His  head  by  nature  framed  to  wear  a  crown, 
His  hand  to  wield  a  scepter,  and  himself 
Likely  in  time  to  bless  a  regal  throne. 
Make  much  of  him,  my  lords,  for  this  is  he 
Must  help  you  more  than  you  are  hurt  by  me. 

Enter  a  Post. 

War.  What  news,  my  friend? 

Post.  That  Edward  is  escaped  from  your  brother, 

And  fled,  as  he  hears  since,  to  Burgundy. 
War.  Unsavory  news !  but  how  made  he  escape  ?  80 
Post.  He  was  convey'd  by  Richard  duke  of  Glou- 
cester 
And  the  Lord  Hastings,  who  attended  him 
In  secret  ambush  on  the  forest  side, 
And  from  the  bishop's  huntsmen  rescued  him; 
For  hunting  was  his  daily  exercise. 
War.  My  brother  was  too  careless  of  his  charge. 
But  let  us  hence,  my  sovereign,  to  provide 
A  salve  for  any  sore  that  may  betide. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Somerset,  Richmond 

and  Oxford. 
Som.  My  lord,  I  like  not  of  this  flight  of  Ed- 
ward's ; 
For  doubtless  Burgundy  will  yield  him  help,  90 

kind  of  lionor  might  be  diminished,  if  there  were  not  distance  kept 
between  innocents  and  saints." — H.  N.  H. 

122 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  vU. 

Aiid  we  sliall  have  more  wars  before  't  be  long. 
As  Henry's  late  presaging  prophecy- 
Did  glad  my  heart  with  hope  of  this  young 

Richmond, 
So  doth  my  heart  misgive  me,  in  these  conflicts 
What  may  befall  him,  to  his  harm  and  ours : 
Therefore,  Lord  Oxford,  to  prevent  the  worst, 
Forthwith  we  '11  send  him  hence  to  Brittany, 
Till  storms  be  past  of  civil  enmity. 

Oxf.  Aye,  for  if  Edward  repossess  the  crown, 
'Tis  hke  that  Richmond   with  the  rest  shall 
down.  100 

Som,  It  shall  be  so;  he  shall  to  Brittany. 
Come,  therefore,  let 's  about  it  speedily. 

[E.veunt. 


Scene  VII 

Before  York. 

Flourish.     Enter     King     Edicard,     Gloucester, 
Hastings,  and  Soldiers. 

K.  Edw.  Now,  brother  Richard,  Lord  Hastings, 
and  the  rest. 
Yet  thus  far  fortune  maketh  us  amends, 
And  says  that  once  more  I  shall  interchange 
My  waned  state  for  Henry's  regal  crown. 
V/ell  have  we  pass'd  and  now  repass'd  the  seas, 
And  brought  desired  help  from  Burgundy: 
What  then  remains,  we  being  thus  arrived 

123 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

From  Ravenspurgh  haven  before  the  gates  of 

York, 
But  that  we  enter,  as  into  our  dukedom? 
Gloii.  The  gates  made  fast!     Brother,  I  Uke  not 
this ;  1^ 

For  many  men  that  stumble  at  the  threshold 
Ai*e  well  foretold  that  danger  lurks  within. 
K.  Edw.  Tush,  man,  abodements  must  not  now 
affright  us: 
By  fair  or  foul  means  we  must  enter  in, 
For  hither  will  our  friends  repair  to  us. 
Hast.  My  liege,  1 11  knock  once  more  to  summon 
them. 

Enter,  on  the  walls,  the  Mayor  of  York  and  his 

Brethren. 

May.  INIy  lords,  we  were  forewarned  of  your  com- 
ing, 
And  shut  the  gates  for  safety  of  ourselves; 
For  now  we  owe  allegiance  unto  Henry. 
K.  Edw.  But,  master  mayor,  if  Henry  be  your 
king,  2^ 

Yet  Edward  at  the  least  is  Duke  of  York. 
3Iay.  True,  my  good  lord ;  I  know  you  for  no  less. 
K.  Edw.  Why,  and  I  challenge  nothing  but  my 
dukedom, 
As  being  well  content  with  that  alone. 
Glou.  [Aside~\  But  when  the  fox  hath  once  got  in 
his  nose, 

8.  "Ravenspurgh,"  the  name  of  a  sea-port  in  Yorkshire;  the  read- 
ing of  Ff.  2,  3,  4;  F.  1,  "Rauenspurre";  Qq.  1,  3,  "Raunspur"; 
"Ravenspurgh  haven  before";  Pope  omits  "haven";  Steevens  conj. 
"fore."— I.  G. 

124 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  vii. 

He  '11  soon  find  means  to  make  the  body  follow. 
Hast.  Why,  master  mayor,  why  stand  you  in  a 
doubt? 
Open  the  gates;  we  are  King  Henry's  friends. 
May.  Aye,  say  you  so?  the  gates  shall  then  be 
open'd.  V^^^^cy  descend. 

Gloii.  A  wise  stout  captain,  and  soon  persuaded !  ^0 
Hast.  The  good  old  man  would  fain  that  all  were 
well, 
So  'twere  not  'long  of  him;  but  being  enter'd, 
I  doubt  not,  I,  but  we  shall  soon  persuade 
Both  him  and  all  his  brothers  unto  reason. 

Enter  the  Mayor  and  two  Aldermen,  below. 

K.  Edw.  So,  master  mayor:  these  gates  must  not 
be  shut 
But  in  the  night  or  in  the  time  of  war. 
,       What !  fear  not,  man,  but  yield  me  up  the  keys ; 

[Takes  his  keys. 
For  Edward  will  defend  the  town  and  thee. 
And  all  those  friends  that  deign  to  follow  me. 

March.     Enter  Montgomery,  with  drum  and 

soldiers. 

Glou.  Brother,  this  is  Sir  John  ^lontgomery,      ^0 

Our  trusty  friend,  unless  I  be  deceived. 
K.  Edw.  Welcome,  Sir  John !     But  why  come  you 

in  arms? 
Montg.  To   help   King   Edward   in  his   time   of 
storm, 

30.  "A  wise  stout  captain,  and  soon  persuaded";  "captain"  probably 
trisyllabic;  Keightley,  '7'  faith,  a  wise";  Collier  MS.  -captain  he"; 
Deliiis  (Lettsom  oonj.),  'capilain";  Cartvvriglit,  "captain,  faith"; 
Pope,  "persuaded  soon." — I.  G. 

125 


Act  IV.  Sc.  vii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

As  every  loyal  subject  ought  to  do. 
K    Edw,  Thanks,  good  Montgomery ;  but  we  now 
forget 
Our  title  to  the  crown,  and  only  claim 
Our  dukedom  till  God  please  to  send  the  rest. 
Montg.  Then  fare  you  well,  for  I  will  hence  again : 
I  came  to  serve  a  king,  and  not  a  duke. 
Drummer,  strike  up,  and  let  us  march  away.  50 

[The  drmn  begins  to  march. 
K.  Edw.  Nay,  stay,  Sir  John,  a  while,  and  we  '11 
debate 
By  what  safe  means  the  crown  may  be  recover'd. 
Montg.  What  talk  you  of  debating?  in  few  words. 
If  you  '11  not  here  proclaim  yourself  our  king, 
I  '11  leave  you  to  your  fortune,  and  be  gone 
To  keep  them  back  that  come  to  succor  you : 
Why  shall  we  fight,  if  you  pretend  no  title? 
Glo7i.  Why,  brother,  wherefore  stand  you  on  nice 

points  ? 
K.  Edw.  When   we    grow    stronger,    then   we  '11 
make  our  claim: 
Till  then,  'tis  wisdom  to  conceal  our  meaning.  60 
Hast.  Away  with  scrupulous  wit!  now  arms  must 

rule. 
Glou.  And    fearless    minds    climb    soonest    unto 
crowns. 
Brother,  we  will  proclaim  you  out  of  hand; 
The  bruit  thereof  will  bring  you  many  friends. 
K.  Edw.  Then  be  it  as  you  will ;  for  'tis  my  right, 
And  Henry  but  usurps  the  diadem. 

67.  "shall";  Capell  (from  Qq.),  "should."— I.  G. 

126 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  IV.  Sc.  vii. 

Montg.  Aye,  now  my  sovereign  speaketh  like  liini- 
self ; 
And  now  will  I  be  Edward's  champion. 
Hast.  Sound  trumi^et;  Edward  shall  be  here  pro- 
claim'd : 
Come,  fellow-soldier,  make  thou  proclamation. 

[Flourish. 
Sold.  Edward  the  Fourth,  by  the  grace  of  God,    71 
king  of  England  and  France,  and  lord  of 
Ireland,  &c. 
Montg.  And  whosoe'er  gainsays  King  Edward's 
right, 
By  this  I  challenge  liim  to  single  fight. 

[Throws  down  his  gauntlet. 
All.  Long  Hve  Edward  the  Fourth! 
K.  Edw.  Thanks,  brave  ^lontgomery;  and  thanks 
unto  you  all: 
If  fortune  serve  me,  I  '11  requite  this  kindness. 
Now,  for  this  night,  let 's  harbor  here  in  York ; 
ilnd  when  the  morning  sun  shall  raise  his  car  ^0 
Above  the  border  of  this  horizon, 
We  '11  forward  towards  Warwick  and  his  mates ; 
For  well  I  wot  that  Henry  is  no  soldier. 
Ah,  f roward  Clarence !  how  evil  it  beseems  thee, 
To  flatter  Heniy  and  forsake  thy  brother! 
Yet,  as  we  may,  wx  '11  meet  both  thee  and  War- 
wick. 
Come  on,  brave  soldiers :  doubt  not  of  the  day. 
And,  that  once  gotten,  doubt  not  of  large  pay. 

[Exeunt. 

88.  In   October,   1470.  about   a   year  after   his   escape   from   York, 
Edward,  having  failed  in  several  schemes  for  recovering  his  power, 

127 


Act  IV.  Sc.  viii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 


Scene  VIII 

London.     The  jjalace. 

Flourish.     Enter  King  Henry,   Warwick,  Mon- 
tague, Clarence,  Exeter,  and  Oxford. 

War.  What  counsel,  lords?     Edward  from  Belgia, 
With  hasty  Germans  and  blunt  Hollanders, 
Hath  pass'd  in  safety  through  the  narrow  seas, 
And  with  his  troops  doth  march  amain  to  Lon- 
don; 
And  many  giddy  people  flock  to  him. 

K.  Hen.  Let 's  levy  men,  and  beat  him  back  again. 

Clar.  A  little  fire  is  quickly  trodden  out; 

Which,  being  suifer'd,  rivers  cannot  quench. 

War.  In     Warwickshire     I     have     true-hearted 
friends, 

embarked  from  Lynn,  and  sought  refuge  with  the  duke  of  Bur- 
gundy, who  had  lately  been  married  to  his  sister.  Being  there  fitted 
out  with  a  fleet  and  fifteen  hundred  men,  he  returned  to  England, 
and  landed  at  Ravenspurg,  the  same  place  where  Bolingbroke  had 
come  on  a  similar  errand  in  1399.  In  less  than  two  months  after  his 
landing,  Edward  was  again  on  the  throne:  but  his  course  was  one  of 
inexpressible  perfidy;  "still  bruiting  that  his  comming  was  not  to 
chalenge  the  crowne,  but  onelie  the  duchie  of  Yorke";  and  when  at 
last,  on  this  ground,  he  was  let  into  the  city  of  York,  he  "received 
the  sacrament,  and  there  solemnlie  sware  to  keepe  and  observe  tv/o 
speciall  articles, — the  one,  that  he  should  use  the  citizens  after  a 
gentle  and  courteous  maner,  the  other,  that  he  should  be  faithfull 
and  obedient  unto  king  Henries  commandments." — H.  N.  H. 

"Enter."  In  the  Folios,  Somerset  is  named  in  the  stage  direction, 
though  he  had  gone  with  young  Richmond  into  Brittany.  The  mis- 
take arose,  as  the  Cambridge  Eds.  point  out,  from  the  Quartos,  in 
which  Scenes  vi.  and  viii.  form  but  one. — 1.  G. 

2.  "hasty  Germans";  S.  Walker,  "lusty";  Cartwright,  "hardy."— 
I.  G. 

128 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Se.  viii. 

Not  mutinous  iu  peace,  yet  bold  iii  war;  1^ 

Those  will  I  muster  up :  uiid  thou,  son  Clarence, 
Shalt  stir  up  in  Suffolk,  Norfolk  and  in  Kent, 
The  knights  and  gentlemen  to  come  with  thee: 
Thou,  brother  INIontague,  in  Buckingham, 
Northampton  and  in  Leicestershire,  shalt  find 
Men   well   inclined   to   hear   what   thou   com- 

mand'st : 
And  thou,  brave  Oxford,  wondrous  well  be- 
loved. 
In  Oxfordshire  shalt  muster  up  thy  friends. 
My  sovereign,  with  the  loving  citizens. 
Like  to  his  island  girt  in  with  the  ocean,  20 

Or  modest  Dian  circled  wdth  her  nymphs, 
Shall  rest  in  London  till  we  come  to  him. 
Fair  lords  take  leave  and  stand  not  to  reply. 
Farewell,  my  sovereign. 

K.  Hen.  Farewell,  my  Hector,  and  my  Troy's  true 
hope. 

Clar.  In  sign  of  truth,  I  kiss  your  highness'  hand. 

K.  Hen.  Well-minded   Clarence,   be  thou   fortu- 
nate ! 

Mont.  Comfort,  my  lord;  and  so  I  take  my  leave. 

Ojcf.  And  thus  I  seal  my  truth  and  bid  adieu. 

K.  Hen.  Sweet  Oxford,  and  my  loving  Montague, 
And  all  at  once,  once  more  a  happy  farewell.  ^^1 

War.  Farewell,  sw^et  lords:  let's  meet  at  Coven- 
try. 
[Exeunt  all  hut  King  Henri/  and  Exeter. 

K.  Hen.  Here  at  the  palace  will  I  rest  a  while. 
Cousin  of  Exeter,  what  thinks  your  lordship? 
Methinks  the  power  that  Edward  hath  in  field 

129 


Act  IV.  Sc.  viii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Should  not  be  able  to  encounter  mine. 
EiVe.  The  doubt  is  that  he  will  seduce  the  rest„ 
K.  Hen.  That 's  not  my  fear ;  my  meed  hath  got 

me  fame: 
I  have  not  stopp'd  mine  ears  to  theii'  demands, 
Nor  posted  off  their  suits  with  slow  delays ;    40 
My  pity  hath  been  balm  to  heal  their  wounds, 
My  mildness  hath  allay'd  their  swelling  griefs, 
My  mercy  dried  their  water-flowing  tears; 
I  have  not  been  desirous  of  their  wealth, 
Nor  much  oppress'd  them  with  great  subsidies, 
Nor  forward  of  revenge,  though  they  much 

err'd : 
Then  why  should  they  love  Edward  more  than 

me? 
No,  Exeter,  these  graces  challenge  grace : 
And  when  the  lion  fawns  upon  the  lamb. 
The  lamb  will  never  cease  to  follow  him.        50 
[Shout  within,  'A  Lancaster!  A  Lancaster!' 
Exe.  Hark,  hark,  my  lord!  what  shouts  are  these? 

Enter  King  Edward,  Gloucester,  and  Soldiers. 

K,  Edw.  Seize  on  the  shame-faced  Henry,  bear 

him  hence ; 
And  once  again  proclaim  us  king  of  England. 
You  are  the  fount  that  makes  small  brooks  to 

flow : 

43.  "water-flowing  tears";  Capell,  "water-flowing  eyes";  Collier 
MS.,  "hitter-flowing  tears" ;  Vaughan,  "%oet  o'erfloiving  tears." — I.  G. 

51.  Mr.  Collier  thinks  this  shout  should  be,  A  York!  A  York! 
unless  we  suppose  it  to  come  from  some  soldiers  in  Henry's  pay. 
But  the  truth  is,  one  part  of  Edward's  disguise  was  that  he  ordered 
his  men  everywhere  to  shout,  "Long  live  King  Henry !" — H.  N.  H. 

130 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  iv.  Sc.  Wii. 

Now  stops  thy  spring;  my  sea  shall  suck  tlieni 

dry, 
And  swell  so  much  the  higher  by  their  ebb. 
Hence  with  him  to  the  Tower;  let  him  not  speak. 
[Etveunt  some  with  King  Henry. 
And,    lords,   towards   Coventry   bend   we   our 

course, 
Where  peremptory  Warwick  now  remains: 
The  sun  shines  hot;  and,  if  we  use  delay,        60 
Cold  biting  winter  mars  our  hoped-for  hay. 
Glou.  Away  betimes,  before  his  forces  join, 

And  take  the  great-grown  traitor  unawares: 
Brave  warriors,  march  amain  towards  Coventry. 

[Exeunt. 

61.  "hoped-for  hay";  Qq.,  "hope  for  haie";  Malone  proposed,  alto- 
f.ether  unnecessarily,  to  change  the  words  to  "hope  for  aye." — I.  G. 

64.  On  this  occasion  Henry  was  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  Ed- 
ward by  the  archbishop  of  York,  in  whose  care  he  had  been  left  by 
Warwick.  On  the  morning  of  April  11,  1471,  the  archbishop,  who 
was  brother  to  Warwick,  had  Henry  out  to  an  official  ride  through 
the  streets  of  London,  and  in  the  evening  he  gave  orders  for  Ed- 
ward to  be  admitted  by  a  postern.  The  excuse  which  he  alleged  was, 
that  he  found  the  city  i)ent  on  having  Edward  for  their  king.  Henry, 
liowcver,  was  not  remanded  to  the  Tower  till  after  his  cause  was 
again  crushed  in  the  battle  of  Barnet. — H.  N.  H. 


ISl 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 


ACT  FIFTH 
Scene  I 

Coventry. 

Enter  Warwick,  the  Mayor  of  Coventry,  two  Mes- 
sengers, and  others  upon  the  walls. 

War.  Where  is  the  post  that  came  from  vaUant 
Oxford? 
How  far  hence  is  thy  lord,  mine  honest  fellow? 
First.  Mess.  By  this  at  Dunsmore,  marching  hith- 

erward. 
War.  How  far  off  is  our  brother  Montague? 

Where  is  the  post  that  came  from  IMontague? 
Second  Mess.  By  this  at  Daintry,  with  a  puissant 
troop. 

Enter  Sir  John  Somervile. 

War.  Say,  Somervile,  what  says  my  loving  son  ? 

And,  by  thy  guess,  how  nigh  is  Clarence  now? 

Som.  At  Southam  I  did  leave  him  with  his  forces, 

And  do  expect  him  here  some  two  hours  hence  10 

[Drum  heard. 
War.  Then  Clarence  is  at  hand ;  I  hear  his  drum. 
Som.  It  is  not  his,  my  lord ;  here  Southam  lies : 
The  drum  your  honor  hears  marcheth   from 
Warwick. 

6.  "Daintry,"    popular    pronunciation'  of   Daventry. — I.    G. 

132 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

War.  Who  should  that   be?  behke,   unlook'd-for 

fi-iends. 
Som.  They  are  at  hand,  ajid  you  shall  quickly  know. 

March.     Flourish.     Enter  King  Edward,   Glou- 
cester and  Soldiers. 

K.  Edxv.  Go,  trumpet,  to  the  walls,  and  sound  a 

parle. 
Gloii.  See  how  the  surly  Warwick  mans  the  wall! 
War.  O  unhid  spite!  is  sportful  Edward  come? 

Where  slept  our  scouts,  or  how  are  they  seduced, 

That  we  could  hear  no  news  of  his  repair?    20 
K.  Edxv.  Now,  Warwick,  wilt  thou  ope  the  city 
gates. 

Speak  gentle  words  and  humbly  bend  thy  knee, 

Call  Edward  king  and  at  his  hands  beg  mercy? 

And  he  shall  pardon  thee  these  outrages. 
War,  Nay,  rather,  wilt  thou  draw  thy  forces  hence. 

Confess  who  set  thee  up  and  pluck'd  thee  down, 

Call  Warwick  patron  and  be  penitent  ? 

And  thou  shalt  still  remain  the  Duke  of  York. 
Glou.  I  thought,  at  least,  he  would  have  said  the 
king; 

Or  did  he  make  the  jest  against  his  will?        30 
Wa7\  Is  not  a  dukedom,  sir,  a  goodly  gift? 
Glou.  Aye,  by  my  faith,  for  a  poor  earl  to  give: 

I  '11  do  thee  service  for  so  good  a  gift. 
War.  'Twas    I    that    gave   the    kingdom   to   thy 

brother. 
K.  Edxv.  Why  then  'tis  mine,  if  but  by  Wanvick's 

gift. 
War.  Thou  art  no  Atlas  for  so  great  a  weight: 

133 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

And,  weakling,  ^Varwick  takes  his  gift  again; 

And  Henry  is  my  king,  Warwick  his  subject. 
K.  Echv.  But  Warwick's  king  is  Edward's  i^ris- 
oner : 

And,  gallant  Warwick,  do  but  answer  this :    40 

WJmt  is  the  body  when  the  head  is  off? 
Glou.  Alas,  that  Warwick  had  no  more  forecast, 

But,  whiles  he  thought  to  steal  the  single  ten,  , 

The  king  was  slily  finger'd  from  the  deck! 

You  left  poor  Henry  at  the  bishop's  palace. 

And,  ten  to  one,  vou  '11  meet  him  in  the  Tower. 
K.  Edw.  'Tis  even  so;  yet  you  are  Warwick  still. 
Glou.  Come,  Warwick,  take  the  time ;  kneel  down, 
kneel  down: 

Xay,  when?  strike  now,  or  else  the  iron  cools. 
War.  I  had  rather  chop  this  hand  off  at  a  blow,  50 

And  with  the  other  fling  it  at  thy  face. 

Than  bear  so  low  a  sail,  to  strike  to  thee. 
K.  Edw.  Sail  how  thou  canst,  have  wind  and  tide 
thy  friend, 

This   hand,   fast  wound   about  thy   coal-black 
hair. 

Shall,  whiles  thy  head  is  warm  and  new  cut  off, 
.  Write  in  the  dust  this  sentence  with  thy  blood, 

' Wind- clmnging  Warwick  now  can  change  no 


more.' 


Enter  Oxford^  with  drum  and  colors. 

War.  O  cheerful  colors!  see  where  Oxford  comes! 
Oa^f.  Oxford,  Oxford,  for  Lancaster! 

[He  and  his  forces  enter  the  city. 


50.  "I  had";  Pope,  "I'd."— I.  G. 

134 


KING  MENRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  i. 

Glou.  The  gates  are  open,  let  us  enter  too.  60 

K.  Edxi).  So  otlier  foes  may  set  upon  our  backs. 
Stand  we  in  good  array ;  for  they  no  doubt 
Will  issue  out  again  and  bid  us  battle: 
If  not,  the  city  being  but  a  small  defense, 
We  '11  quickly  rouse  the  traitors  in  the  same. 
War,  O,  welcome,  Oxford!  for  we  M'ant  thy  help. 

Enter  Montague,  with  drum  and  colors. 

Mont.  Montague,  ISfontague,  for  Lancaster! 

[He  and  his  forces  enter  the  city. 

Glou.  Thou  and  thy  brother  both  shall  buy  this 

treason 

Even  with  the  dearest  blood  your  bodies  bear. 

K.  Edw.  The  harder  match'd,  the  greater  victory: 

My  mind  presageth  happy  gain  and  conquest. 

Enter  Somerset,  with  drum  and  colors. 

Som.  Somerset,  Somerset,  for  Lancaster?  72 

[He  and  his  forces  enter  the  citv. 
Glou.  Two  of  +hy  name,  both  Dukes  of  Somerset, 

Have  sold  their  lives  unto  the  house  of  York; 

And  thou  shalt  be  the  third,  if  this  sword  hold. 

Enter  Clarence,  with  drum  and  colors. 

War.  And  lo,  where  George  of  Clarence  sweeps 
along, 
Of  force  enough  to  bid  his  brother  battle; 
With  whom  an  upright  zeal  to  right  prevails 

73.  "Two  of  thy  navie,  both  Dvkes  of  Somerset";  "Eilmuml,  slain 
at  battle  of  St.  Alban's,  U55;  and  Henry,  his  son,  beheaded  after 
the  battle  of  Hexham,  1463"   (Ritson).— l'.  G. 

78.  "whom  an";  Rowe's  emendation;  Ff.  2,  3,  4-  "whom,  an";  V.  1, 
••who7n,  in."— I.  G. 

135 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

More  than  the  nature  of  a  brother's  love  I 
Come,  Clarence,  come;  thou  wilt,  if  Warwick 
caU.  80 

Clar.  Father  of  Warwick,   know  you   what  this 
means?    [Taking  his  red  rose  out  of  his  hat. 
Look  here,  I  throw  my  infamy  at  thee : 
I  will  not  ruinate  my  father's  House, 
Who  gave  his  blood  to  lime  the  stones  together, 
And  set   up   Lancaster.     Why,   trow'st   thou, 

Warwick, 
That  Clarence  is  so  harsh,  so  blunt,  unnatural, 
To  bend  the  fatal  instruments  of  war 
Against  his  brother  and  his  lawful  king? 
Perhaps  thou  wilt  object  my  holy  oath: 
To  keep  that  oath  were  more  impiety  90 

Than  Jephthah's,  when  he  sacrificed  his  daugh- 
ter. 
I  am  so  sorry  for  my  trespass  made 
That,  to  deserve  well  at  my  brother's  hands, 
I  here  proclaim  myself  thy  mortal  foe. 
With  resolution,  wheresoe'er  I  meet  thee — 
As  I  will  meet  thee,  if  thou  stir  abroad — 
To  plague  thee  for  thy  foul  misleading  me. 
And  so,  proud-hearted  Warwick,  I  defy  thee, 
And  to  my  brother  turn  my  blushing  cheeks. 
Pardon  me,  Edward,  I  will  make  amends :     100 
And,  Richard,  do  not  frown  upon  my  faults, 

8G.  "That  Clarence  is";  Steevens  conj.  "Clarence,  so  harsh,  so 
blunt";  Qq.,  "so  harsh"  (so  blvnt  omitted);  Collier  conj.  "so  harsh, 
so  blind";  Mitford,  "so  harsh"  or  "so  blunf;  S.  Walker,  "bhint-un- 
nalural" ;  Anon.  conj.  "brute-nnnatvral." — I.  G. 

91.  "Je])hthah's";  Rowe,  Jepthah's";  Ff.  1,  2,  "lephah"  Ff.  3,  4, 
"Jepthah."—!.  G. 

136 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  ii. 

For  I  will  henceforth  be  no  more  uncoiistant. 
K.  Edw.  Now  welcome  more,  and  ten  times  more 
beloved, 
Than  if  thou  never  hadst  deserved  our  hate. 
Glou.  Welcome,  good  Clarence ;  this  is  brother-like. 
War.  O  passing  traitor,  perjured  and  unjust! 
K.  Edw,  What,    Warwick,    wilt   thou   leave   the 
town,  and  fight? 
Or  shall  we  beat  the  stones  about  thine  ears? 
War.  Alas,  I  am  not  coop'd  here  for  defense! 
I  will  away  towards  Barnet  presently,  HO 

And  bid  thee  battle,  Edward,  if  thou  darest. 
K,  Edw.  Yes,  Warwick,  Edward  dares,  and  leads 
the  way. 
Lords,  to  the  field;  Saint  George  and  victory! 
lEiVeunt  King  Edward  and  his  company. 
March.     Warwick  and  his  company  follow. 


Scene  II 

A  field  of  battle  near  Barnet. 

Alarum    and   excursions.     Enter   King   Edward^ 
bringing  forth  Warwich  wounded. 

K.  Edw.  So,  lie  thou  there:  die  thou,  and  die  our 
fear ; 
For  Warwick  was  a  bug  that  fear'd  us  all. 

110.  "towards  Barnet."  Tlie  proposition  to  go  out  of  Coventry 
and  fight  a  pitched  Imttle  precisely  at  Barnet  remains  unintelligible 
in  the  drama.  The  actual  situation  is  clearly  given  by  Halle.  Find- 
ing that  Warwick  would  not  come  out,  Edward  withdrew  towards 
London.     Warwick  pursued  and  overtook  hiui  at  Barnet. — C.  H.  H. 

137 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Now,  Montague,  sit  fast ;  I  seek  for  thee, 
That  Warwick's  bones  may  keep  tiiine  company. 

[Exit. 
War.  Ah,  who  is  nigh?  come  to  me,  friend  or  foe, 
And  tell  me,  who  is  victor,  York  or  Warwick? 
Why  ask  I  that  ?  my  mangled  body  shows, 
My  blood,  my  want  of  strength,  my  sick  heart 

shows, 
That  I  must  yield  my  body  to  the  earth 
And,  by  my  fall  the  conquest  to  my  foe,  10 

Thus  yields  the  cedar  to  the  axe's  edge. 
Whose  arms  gave  shelter  to  the  princely  eagle, 
Under  whose  shade  the  ramping  lion  slept, 
Whose  top-branch  overpeer'd  Jove's  spreading 

tree, 
And  kept  low  shrubs  from  winter's  powerful 

wind. 
These  eves,  that  now  are  dimm'd  with  death's 

black  veil, 
Have  been  as  piercing  as  the  m.id-da}^  sun. 
To  search  the  secret  treasons  of  the  world: 
The  wrinkles  in  my  brows,  now  fiU'd  with  blood. 
Were  liken'd  oft  to  kingly  sepulchers;  20 

For  who  lived  king,  but  I  could  dig  his  grave? 
And  who  durst  smile  when  Warwick  bent  his 

brow? 
Lo,  nov/  my  glory  smear'd  in  dust  and  blood! 
My  parks,  my  walks,  my  manors  that  I  had. 
Even  now  forsake  me,  and  of  all  my  lands 
Is  nothing  left  me  but  my  body's  length. 
Why,  what  is  pomp,  rule,  reign,  but  earth  and 

dust? 

138 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Se.  ii. 

Aiid,  live  we  how  we  can,  yet  die  we  must. 
Enter  Oxford  and  Somerset. 

Som,  All,  Warwick,  Warwick!  wert  thou  as  we  are, 
We  might  recover  all  our  loss  again :  30 

The  queen  from  France  hath  brought  a  puissant 

power : 
Even  now  we  heard  the  news:  ah,  couldst  thou 
fly! 

War.  Wliy,  then  I  would  not  fly.     Ah,  ^Montague, 
If  thou  be  there,  sweet  brother,  take  my  hand, 
And  with  thj^  lips  keep  in  my  soul  a  while ! 
Thou  lovest  me  not;  for,  brother,  if  thou  didst. 
Thy  tears  would  wash  this  cold  congealed  blood. 
That  glues  my  lips  and  will  not  let  me  speak. 
Come  quickly,  iNIontague,  or  I  am  dead. 

Som.  Ah,  Warwick!  IMontague  hath  breathed  his 

last ;  40 

And  to  the  latest  gasp  cried  out  for  AVarwick, 

And  said  'Commend  me  to  my  valiant  brother.' 

And  more  he  would  have  said,  and  more  he 

spoke, 
Which  sounded  like  a  clamor  in  a  vault, 
That  mought  not  be  distinguish'd ;  but  at  last 

28.  The  great  earl  of  Warwick  fell  in  the  battle  of  Barnet,  April 
14,  1471.  The  Poet,  for  obvious  reasons,  represents  him  as  fall- 
ing by  the  hand  of  Edward:  the  Chronicles  relate  that  "the  earle 
of  Warwike,  when  his  souldiers  were  all  wearied  with  long  figlit, 
and  sore  weakened  with  wounds  and  hurts,  ruslied  into  the  middcst 
of  his  enimies,  whereas  he,  adventuring  so  farre  from  his  companie 
to  slea  his  adversaries,  that  he  coidd  not  be  rescued,  was  amoiig.-.t 
the  preassc  of  his  enimies  striken  downe  and  slaine." — H.  X.  H. 

44.  "clamour,"  Warburton's  reading  from  Qq.;  Ff.  "caniwH."— 
I.  G. 

139 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

I  well  might  hear,  delivered  with  a  groan, 
'O,  farewell,  Warwick!' 
1Va}\  Sweet  rest  his  soul!     Fly,  lords,  and  save 
yourselves ; 
For  Warwick  bids  you  all  farewell,  to  meet  in 
heaven.  ,  \_Dies. 

Ooof.  Away,    away,    to    meet    the    queen's    great 
power !  50 

\_Here  they  hear  away  his  body.    Exeunt. 


Scene  III 

Another  'part  of  the  field. 

Flourish,     Enter  King  Edward  in  triumph;  with 
Gloucester^  Clarence^  and  the  rest. 

K.  Edw.  Thus  far  our  fortune  keeps  an  upward 
course, 
And  we  are  graced  with  wreaths  of  victory. 
But,  in  the  midst  of  this  bright-shining  day, 
I  spy  a  black,  suspicious,  threatening  cloud, 
That  will  encounter  with  our  glorious  sun, 
Ere  he  attain  his  easeful  western  bed : 
I  mean,  my  lords,  those  powers  that  the  queen 
Hath  raised  in  Gallia  have  arrived  our  coast. 
And,  as  we  hear,  march  on  to  fight  with  us. 

Clar.  A  little  gale  will  soon  disperse  that  cloud,  10 
And  blow  it  to  the  source  from  whence  it  came : 

47-49.  The  arrangement  of  the  lines  in  the  Qq. ;  they  form  three 
lines  in  Ff.,  and  have  been  variously  arranged  by  editors, — I.  G. 

5.  "our   glorious  sun";   alluding  to  the   cognizance   of   Edward. — 
I.  G. 

140 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

The  very  beams  will  dry  those  vapors  up, 
For  every  cloud  engenders  not  a  sLorni. 
Glou.  The  queen  is  valued  thirty  thousand  strong, 
And  Somerset,  with  Oxford,  fled  to  her: 
If  she  have  time  to  breathe,  be  well  assured 
Her  faction  will  be  full  as  strong  as  ours. 
K,  Edxv.  We  are  advertised  by  our  loving  friends 
That  they  do  hold  their  course  toward  Tewks- 

bury : 
We,  having  now  the  best  at  Barnet  field,        -^ 
Will  thither  straight,  for  willingness  rids  way; 
And,  as  we  march,  our  strength  will  be  aug- 
mented 
In  every  county  as  we  go  along. 
Strike  up  the  drum;  cry  'Courage!'  and  away. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  IV 

Plains  near  Tcwkshury. 

March.     Enter  Queen  Margaret,  Prince  Edtvard, 
Somerset,  Oxford,  and  Soldiers. 

Q.  3Iar.  Great  lords,  wise  men  ne'er  sit  and  wail 
their  loss. 
But  cheerly  seek  how  to  redress  their  harms. 
What  though  the  mast  be  now  blown  overbroad, 
The  cable  broke,  the  holding-anchor  lost, 
And  half  our  sailors  swallow'd  in  the  flood? 
Yet  lives  our  pilot  still.     Is  't  meet  that  he 
Should  leave  the  helm,  and  like  a  fearful  lad 
With  tearful  eyes  add  water  to  the  sea, 

141 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  THE  THIKD  PART  OF 

And  give  more  strength  to  that  which  liath  too 

much, 
Whiles,  in  his  moan,  the  ship  sphts  on  the  rock,10 
Which  industry  and  courage  might  have  saved  ? 
All,  what  a  shame !  ah,  what  a  fault  were  this ! 
Say  Warwick  was  our  anchor;  what  of  that? 
And  Montague  our  topmast;  what  of  him? 
Our  slaughter'd  friends  the  tackles;  what  of 

these? 
Why,  is  not  Oxford  here  another  anchor? 
And  Somerset  another  goodly  mast? 
The  friends  of  France  our  shrouds  and  tack- 
lings? 
And,  though  unskillful,  why  not  Ned  and  I 
For  once  allow'd  the  skillful  pilot's  charge?   20 
We  will  not  from  the  helm  to  sit  and  weep. 

But  keep  our  course,  though  the  rough  wind 
say  no, 

From  shelves  and  rocks  that  threaten  us  with 
wreck. 

As  good  to  chide  the  waves  as  speak  them  fair. 

And  what  is  Edward  but  a  ruthless  sea? 

What  Clarence  but  a  quicksand  of  deceit? 

And  Richard  but  a  ragged  fatal  rock? 

All  these  the  enemies  to  our  poor  bark. 

Say  you  can  swim ;  alas,  'tis  but  a  while  I 

Tread  on  the  sand ;  why,  there  you  quickly  sink : 

Bestride  the  rock ;  the  tide  will  wash  you  oif ,  31 

18.  "The  friends  of  France  our  shrouds  and  tacklings";  S.  Walker, 
"Our  .  .  .  our,"  or  "These  .  .  .  our,"  &c.;  Cartwright,  "Our 
.  .  .  the,"  &.C.;  Pope,  "tacklings  still";  Johiison,  "tackling  still"; 
"tacklings"  is  evidently  trisyllabic  in  this  passage.— I.  G. 

142 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

Or  else  you  famish;  that 's  a  three-fold  death. 
This  speak  I,  lords,  to  let  you  understand, 
If  case  some  one  of  you  would  fly  from  us. 
That  there  's  no  hoped-for  mercy  with  tlie 

brothers, 
More  than  with  ruthless  waves,  with  sands  and 

rocks. 
Why,  courage  then!  what  cannot  be  avoided 
'Twere  childish  weakness  to  lament  or  fear. 

Piince.  Methinks  a  woman  of  this  valiant  spirit 
Should,  if  a  coward  heard  her  speak  these  words. 
Infuse  his  breast  with  magnanimity,  41 

And  make  him,  naked,  foil  a  man  at  arms. 
I  speak  not  this  as  doubting  any  here; 
For  did  I  but  suspect  a  fearful  man, 
He  should  have  leave  to  go  away  betimes, 
Lest  in  our  need  he  might  infect  another. 
And  make  him  of  like  spirit  to  himself. 
If  any  such  be  here — as  God  forbid! — 
Let  him  depart  before  we  need  his  help. 

Oxf.  Women  and  children  of  so  high  a  courage,  50 
And    warriors    faint!    why,    'twere    perpetual 

shame. 
O  brave  j'oung  prince!  thy  famous  grandfather 
Doth  live  again  in  thee :  long  mayst  thou  live 
To  bear  his  image  and  renew  his  glories! 

Som.  And  he  that  will  not  fight  for  such  a  hope, 
Go  home  to  bed,  and  like  the  owl  by  day, 
If  he  arise,  be  mock'd  and  wonder'd  at. 

Q.  Mar.  Thanks,  gentle  Somerset;  sweet  Oxford, 
thanks. 


14S 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Prince.  And  take  his  thanks  that  yet  hath  nothing 
else. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess,  Prepare  you,  lords,  for  Edward  is  at  hand,  60 

Ready  to  fight;  therefore  be  resolute. 
OiVf.  I  thought  no  less :  it  is  his  policy 

To  haste  thus  fast,  to  find  us  unprovided. 
Som.  But  he  's  deceived;  we  are  in  readiness. 
Q.  3Iar.  This  cheers  my  heart,  to  see  your  forward- 
ness. 
OiVf.  Here  pitch  our  battle;  hence  we  will  not 
budge. 

Flourish  and  March.     Enter  King  Edward,  Glou- 
cester, Clarence,  and  Soldiers. 

K.  Edw.  Brave     followers,     yonder     stands    the 
thorny  wood, 
Which,   by  the  heavens'   assistance   and  your 

strength. 
Must  by  the  roots  be  hewn  up  yet  ere  night. 
I  need  not  add  more  fuel  to  your  fire,  "^0 

For  well  I  wot  ye  blaze  to  burn  them  out 
Give  signal  to  the  fight,  and  to  it,  lords ! 
Q,  3Iar.  Lords,  knights,  and  gentlemen,  what  I 
should  say 
My  tears  gainsay;  for  every  v/ord  I  speak, 
Ye  see,  I  drink  the  water  of  mine  eyes. 
Therefore,  no  more  but  this:  Henry,  your  sov" 

ereign, 
Is  prisoner  to  the  foe ;  his  state  usurp'd, 

75.  "mine  .eyes";  Capell   (from  Qq.);  Ff.  "my  eye."— I.  G. 

144 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  v. 

His  realm  a  slaugiiter-house,  his  subjects  slain, 
His  statutes  cancell'd,  and  his  treasure  sj^ent; 
And  yonder  is  the  wolf  that  makes  this  spoil.  80 
You  fight  in  justice:  then,  in  God's  name,  lords, 
Be  valiant,  and  give  signal  to  the  fight. 

\_Alarum:  Retreat:  Ejocursions,    Exeunt, 


SCEXE  V 

Another  part  of  the  field. 

Flourish.  Enter  King  Edward,  Gloucester,  Clar- 
ence  and  soldiers;  with  Queen  Margaret,  Ox- 
ford  and  Somerset,  jmsoners, 

K.  Edw.  Now  here  a  period  of  tumultuous  broils. 
Away  with  Oxford  to  Hames  Castle  straight: 
For  Somerseti^ff  with  his  guilty  head. 

1.  "Now  here";  the  reading  of  F.  1;  Ff.  2,  3,  4,  "Now  here's"; 
Capell  (from  Qq.),  "Lo,  here."— I.  G. 

2.  "Hames";  the  reading  of  Qq.  and  Ff.;  "Ham"  in  Picardy; 
Rowe  reads  "Ilammes";  Hanmer,  "Holmes";  Capell,  "Hammes"; 
Delius,  "Ham's."— I.  G. 

"Hames  Castle,"  a  castle  in  Picardy,  where  Oxford  was  confined 
for  many  years. — H.  N.  II. 

3.  Tlie  battle  of  Tewkhbury  was  fought  May  4,  1471.  Two  days 
after,  the  duke  of  Somerset,  with  other  fugitives,  was  dragged  from 
sanctuary,  and  beheaded.  The  queen  and  prince  had  been  in  France 
for  some  time,  seeking  aid,  and  landed  in  England  the  very  day  of 
the  battle  of  Barnet.  We  are  told  that  when  she  got  news  of  that 
disaster,  "all  her  hopes  were  instantly  broken:  she  sank  to  the  ground 
in  despair;  and,  as  soon  as  she  came  to  herself,  hastened  with  her 
son  to  the  sanctuary  of  Beaulieu.  But  the  Lancastrian  lords  who 
still  remained  faithful  to  her  cause,  induced  her  to  quit  her  asylum, 
and  raised  a  considerable  body  of  troops  to  fight  under  her  banner." 
While  these  were  on  the  march  to  join  another  army  in  Wales,  they 
were  intercepted  by  Edward  at  Tewksbury,  and  there  finished. — 
H.  N.  H. 

145 


Act  V.  Sc.  V.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Go,  bear  them  hence ;  I  will  not  hear  them  speak. 

Oxf,  For  my  part,  I  '11  not  trouble  thee  with  words. 

Som.  Nor  I,  but  stoop  with  patience  to  my  fortune. 

[Exeunt  Oxford  and  Somerset,  guarded, 

Q.  3Iar,  So  part  we  sadly  in  this  troublous  world. 

To  meet  with  joy  in  sweet  Jerusalem. 
K,  Ediv.  Is  proclamation  made,  that  who  finds  Ed- 
ward 

Shall  have  a  high  reward,  and  he  his  life?        10 
Glou,  It  is:  and  lo,  where  youthful  Edward  comes! 

Enter  Soldiers,  with  Prince  Edward. 

K.  Edw.  Bring  forth  the  gallant,  let  us  hear  him 
speak. 
What!  can  so  young  a  thorn  begin  to  prick? 
Edward,  what  satisfaction  canst  thou  make 
For  bearing  arms,  for  stirring  up  my  subjects. 
And  all  the  trouble  thou  hast  turn'd  me  to  ? 

Prince.  Speak    like   a   subject,    proud   ambitious 
York ! 
Suppose  that  I  am  now  my  father's  mouth; 
Resign  thy  chair,  and  where  I  stand  kneel  thou, 
Whilst  I  propose  the  selfsame  words  to  thee,  20 
Which,  traitor,  thou  wouldst  have  me  answer  to. 

Q.  Mar.  Ah,  that  thy  father  had  been  so  resolved! 

Glou.  That  you  might  still  have  worn  the  petticoat. 
And  ne'er  have  stol'n  the  breech  from  Lancas- 
ter. 

Prince.  Let  ^sop  fable  in  a  winter's  night; 

25.  He  calls  Richard  iEsop  on  account  of  his  crookedness;  and 
Richard  here  betrays  the  same  morbid  sensitiveness  touchinp:  his 
person,  which  afterwards  makes  him  "descant  on  Ms  own  deform- 
ty."    This  passage,  being  the  fame  in  the  quarto,  may  be  aptly  cited 

146 


KING   HENRY    VI  Act  V.  Sc.  y. 

His  currish  riddles  sort  not  with  this  place. 
Glou,  By  heaven,  brat,   I  '11  plague  ye  for  that 

word. 
Q.  Mar.  Aye,  thou  wast  born  to  be  a  plague  to 

men. 

Glou.  For  God's  sake,  take  away  this  captive  scold. 

Prince.  Nay,  take  away  this  scolding  crook-back 

rather.  -^O 

K.  Edxv.  Peace,  willful  boy,  or  I  will  charm  your 

tongue. 
Clar.  Untutor'd  lad,  thou  art  too  malapert. 
Prince.  I  know  my  duty;  you  are  all  undutiful: 
Lascivious  Edward,  and  thou  perjured  George, 
And  thou  mis-shapen  Dick,  I  tell  ye  all 
I  am  your  better,  traitors  as  ye  are: 
And  thou  usurp'st  my  father's  right  and  mine. 
K.  Edw.  Take  that,  thou  likeness  of  this  railer 
here.  [SUihs  him. 

Glou.  Sprawl'st  thou?  take  that,  to  end  thy  agony. 

[Stahs  him. 
Clar.  And  there  's  for  twitting  me  with  perjury.  -iO 

[Stabs  him. 

as  inferring  an   identity  of  authorship   running  through   the   wliole 
delineation  of  Richard. — H.  N.  H. 

38.  "thou";  Rowe  (from  Q.  3);  Ff.  (Qq.  1,  2),  "l.he."—l.  G. 
^40.  Prince  Edward  was  born  October  13,  li53;  so  that  he  was 
in  his  eighteenth  year  wiien  killed.  The  Clironicles  give  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  his  death:  "After  the  field  was  ended,  procla- 
mation was  made,  that  whosoever  could  bring  foorth  prince  Ed- 
ward, alive  or  dead,  should  have  an  annuitic  of  a  hundred  pounds 
during  his  life,  and  the  princes  life  to  be  saved,  if  he  were  l)rought 
foortli  alive.  Sir  Richard  Crofts,  nothing  mistrusting  the  kings 
promise,  brougiit  foorth  his  prisoner  prince  Edward,  being  a  faire 
and  well  proportioned  yoong  gentleman;  whom  when  king  Ed- 
ward had  well  advised,  he  demanded  of  him  how  he  durst  so  pre- 

147 


Act  V.  Sc.  V.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Q.  Mar.  O,  kill  me  too! 

Glou,  Marry,  and  shall.  [^Offers  to  kill  her. 

K.  Edw.  Hold,  Richard,  hold;  for  we  have  done 
too  much. 

Glou.  Why  should  she  live,  to  fill  the  world  with 
words  ? 

K.  Edw,  What,  doth  she  swoon?  use  means  for  her 
recovery. 

Glou.  Clarence,  excuse  me  to  the  king  my  brother ; 
I  '11  hence  to  London  on  a  serious  matter: 
Ere  ye  come  there,  be  sure  to  hear  some  news. 

Clar.  What?  what? 

Glou.  The  Tower,  the  Tower.  [Exit.     50 

Q.  Mar.  O  Ned,  sweet  Ned!  speak  to  thy  mother, 
boy! 
Canst  thou  not  speak?     O  traitors!  murderers! 
They  that  stabb'd  Caesar  shed  no  blood  at  all, 
Did  not  offend,  nor  were  not  worthy  blame, 
If  this  foul  deed  were  by  to  equal  it: 
He  w^as  a  man ;  this,  in  respect,  a  child : 
And  men  ne'er  spend  their  fury  on  a  child. 

sumptuouslie  enter  into  his  realme  with  banner  displayed.  Where- 
unto  the  prince  boldlie  answered,  saieng, — 'To  recover  my  fathers 
kingdome  and  heritage,  from  his  father  and  grandfather  to  him, 
and  from  him  after  him  to  me  lineallie  descended.'  At  which  words 
king  Edward  said  nothing,  but  with  his  hand  thrust  him  from  him, 
or,  as  some  saie,  stroke  him  with  his  gauntlet;  whome  incontinentlie, 
George  duke  of  Clarence,  Richard  duke  of  Glocester,  Thomas  Greie 
marquesse  Dorcet,  and  William  lord  Hastings,  that  stood  by,  sud- 
denlie  murthered ;  for  the  wliich  cruell  act,  the  more  part  of  the 
dooers  in  their  latter  daies  dranke  of  the  like  cup,  by  the  righteous 
justice  and  due  punishment  of  God." — H.  N.  H, 

50.  "The  Tower,  the  Tower";  Capell's  reading;  Ff.,  "Tower,  the 
Toioei-";  Tiieobald  (from  Qq.),  "The  Tower,  man,  the  Tower!— I'll 
root  'em  ovt";  Steevens,  "The  Toiver,  man,  Tower!" — I.  G. 

148 


KING  IIKNHV  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  V. 

What 's  worse  than  murderer,  that  I  may  name 

it? 
No,  no,  my  heart  will  burst,  and  if  I  speak: 
And  I  will  speak,  that  so  my  heart  may  burst.  6i> 
Butchers  and  villains!  bloody  cannil)als! 
How  sweet  a  plant  have  you  untimely  cropp'd! 
You  have  no  children,  butchers!  if  you  had, 
The  thought  of  them  would  have  stirr'd  up  re- 
morse : 
But  if  you  ever  chance  to  have  a  child. 
Look  in  his  youth  to  have  him  so  cut  off, 
As,  deathsmen,  you  have  rid  this  s\^•eet  young 
prince ! 
K.  Edw.  Away  with  her;  go,  bear  her  hence  per- 
force. 
Q.  3Iar.  Nay,  never  bear  me  hence,  dispatch  me 
here ; 
Here  sheathe  thy  sword,  I  '11  pardon  thee  my 
death :  '^ 

What,  wilt  thou  not?  then,  Clarence,  do  it  thou. 
Cla7\  By  heaven,  I  will  not  do  thee  so  much  ease. 
Q.  Mar.  Good  Clarence,  do;  sweet  Clarence,  do 

thou  do  it. 
Clar.  Didst  thou  not  hear  me  swear  I  would  not  do 

it? 
Q.  Mar.  Aye,  but  thou  usest  to  forswear  thyself: 
'Twas  sin  before,  but  now  'tis  charitv. 
What,   wilt  thou  not?     Where  is  that  devil's 

butcher, 
Hard-favor'd    Richard?     Richard,    where    art 
thou? 

77,  78.  Steevens'  readin*}:,   which   is   nearest   to  Qq. ;    F.   1,  "Where 
ia  that  dei^il's  butcher,  Richard?     Hard  faror'd  Richard,"  &c. — I.  G. 

149 


Act  V.  Sc.  vi.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Thou  art  not  here :  murder  is  thv  alms-deed ; 
Petitioners  for  blood  thou  ne'er  put'st  back.  80 
K.  Edw.  Away,  I  say ;  I  charge  ye,  bear  her  hence. 
Q.  Mar.  So  come  to  j^ou  and  yours,  as  to  this 
prince!  [Exeunt^  led  out  forcibly. 

K.  Edw.  Where  's  Richard  gone? 
Clar.  To  London,  all  in  post;  and,  as  I  guess. 

To  make  a  bloody  supper  in  the  Tower. 
K.  Edw.  He  's  sudden,   if  a  thing  comes  in  his 
head. 
Now  march  we  hence:  discharge  the  common 

sort 
With  pay  and  thanks,  and  let 's  away  to  Lon- 
don, 
And  see  our  gentle  queen  how  well  she  fares : 
By  this,  I  hope,  she  hath  a  son  for  me.  90 

.    [^Exeunt. 

Scene  VI 

London,     The  Tower, 

Enter  King  Henry  and  Gloucester,  with  the  Lieu- 
tenant,  on  the  walls, 

Glou,  Good  day,  my  lord.     What,  at  your  book  so 

hard  ? 
K.  Hen.  Aye,  my  good  lord: — my  lord,  I  should 
say  rather; 
'Tis  sin  to  flatter;  'good'  was  little  better: 
'Good  Gloucester'  and  'good  devil'  were  alike. 
And  both  preposterous;  therefore,  not  'good 
lord.' 

150 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  vi. 

Glou.  Sirrah,  leave  us  to  ourselves:  we  must  confer. 

[Edit  Lieutenant. 

K.  Hen.  So  flies  the  reckless  sheplierd  from  the 
wolf; 
So  first  the  harmless  sheep  doth  yield  his  fleece, 
And  next  his  throat  unto  the  butcher's  knife. 
What  scene  of  death  hath  Roscius  now  to  act  ?  10 

Glou.  Suspicion  always  haunts  the  guilty  mind ; 
The  thief  doth  fear  each  bush  an  officer. 

K.  Hen.  The  bird  that  hath  been  limed  in  a  bush, 
With  trembling  wings  misdoubteth  every  bush; 
And  I,  the  hapless  male  to  one  sw^eet  bird, 
Have  now  the  fatal  object  in  my  eye, 
Where  my  poor  young  was  limed,  was  caught 
and  kill'd. 

Glou.  Why,  what  a  peevish  fool  w^as  that  of  Crete, 
That  taught  his  son  the  office  of  a  fowl ! 
And  yet,  for  all  his  wings,  the  fool  was  drown'd. 

K.  Hen.  I,  Daedalus;  my  poor  boy,  Icarus;        21 
Thy  father,  ^Minos,  that  denied  our  course ; 
The  sun  that  sear'd  the  wings  of  my  sweet  boy 
Thy  brother  Edward,  and  thyself  the  sea 
Whose  envious  gulf  did  swallow  up  his  life. 
All,  kill  me  with  thy  w^eapon,  not  with  words! 
My  breast  can  better  brook  thy  dagger's  point. 
Than  can  my  ears  that  tragic  history. 
But  wherefore  dost  thou  come?  is  't  for  my  life? 

Glou.  Thinkst  thou  I  am  an  executioner?  ^0 

K.  Hen.  A  persecutor,  I  am  sure,  thou  art: 

20.  "fool";  Seymour  conj.   (from  Qq.),  "fowl."— I.   G. 

21.  D(rdalus,  w!io,  being  detained  in  Crete  by  Minos,  made  wings 
for  himself  and  his  son  Icarus.  Icarus'  wings  were  "sear'd"  by  the 
sun,  and  he  was  drowned. — C.  H.  H. 

151 


Act  V.  Sc.  vi.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

If  murdering  innocents  be  executing, 
Why,  then  thou  art  an  executioner. 

Glou.  Thy  son  I  kill'd  for  his  presumption. 

K.  Hen,  Hadst  thou  been  kiil'd  when  first  thou 
didst  presume, 
Thou  hadst  not  lived  to  kill  a  son  of  mine. 
And  thus  I  prophesy,  that  many  a  thousand. 
Which  now  mistrust  no  parcel  of  my  fear. 
And  many  an  old  man's  sigh  and  many  a  wid- 

OYv^'s, 

And  many  an  orphan's  water-standing  eye —  40 
Men  for  their  sons,  wives  for  their  husbands, 
And  orphans  for  their  parents'  timeless  death — 
Shall  rue  the  hour  that  ever  thou  v/ast  born. 
The  owl  shriek'd  at  thy  birth, — an  evil  sign; 
The  night-crow  cried,  aboding  luckless  time; 
Dogs  howl'd,  and  hideous  tempest  shook  down 

trees ; 
The  raven  rook'd  her  on  the  chimney's  top, 
And  chattering  pies  in  dismal  discords  sung. 
Thy  mother  felt  more  than  a  mother's  pain. 
And  yet  brought   forth  less  than  a  mother's 

hope,  50 

To  wit,  an  indigested  and  deformed  lump, 

41.  "Men  for  their  sons,  wives  for  their  husbands";  Anon.  conj. 
(from  Qq.)»  "Wives  for  their  husbands,  fathers  for  their  sons";  F.  1, 
"sonnes,  .  .  .  husbands" ;  F.  2,  "sonnes,  .  .  .  husbands  fate"; 
Ff.  3,  4,  "$0713  .  .  .  husbands  fate";  "W^arburton,  "sons  .  .  . 
hvsbands'  fate";  Knight,  "sorts'     .     .     .     husbands,"  &c. — I.   G. 

45.  "aboding  luckless  time";  Qq.,  "aboding  .  .  .  ittne";  Theo- 
bald, "a  boding     .     .     .     tune." — I.  G. 

48.  "discords";  Grant  While  (from  Qq.),  "discord."— I.  G. 

51.  "To  wit,  an  indigested  and  deformed  lump";  Capell  (from  Qq.), 
"to  wit  an  indigest  deformed  lump";  Dyce  (Capell  conj.)  omits  "to 
wit."— I.  G. 

152 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  vi. 

Not  like  the  fruit  of  such  a  goodly  tree. 

Teeth  hadst  thou  in  thy  head  when  thou  wast 

born, 
To  signify  thou  earnest  to  bite  the  world: 
And,  if  the  rest  be  true  which  I  have  heard. 
Thou  earnest — 
Glou.  I  '11   hear   no   more:   die,   prophet,   in   thy 
speech:  [Stabs  him. 

For  this,  amongst  the  rest,  was  I  ordain'd. 
K.  Hen.  iVye,  and  for  much  more  slaughter  after 
this. 
O,  God  forgive  my  sins,  and  pardon  thee!      60 

[Dies. 

Glou.  What,  will  the  aspiring  blood  of  Lancaster 

Sink  in  the  ground?  I  thought  it  would  have 

mounted. 
See  how  my  sword  weeps  for  the  poor  king's 
death ! 

0,  may  such  purple  tears  be  always  shed 
From   those   that   wish   the   downfall   of   our 

house ! 
If  any  spark  of  life  be  yet  remaining, 
Down,  down  to  hell;  and  say  I  sent  thee  thither: 

[Stabs  him  again. 

1,  that  have  neither  pit>',  love,  nor  fear. 
Indeed,  'tis  true  that  Henry  told  me  of; 

For  I  have  often  heard  my  mother  say  70 

I  came  into  the  world  with  my  legs  forward: 
Had  I  not  reason,  think  ye,  to  make  haste. 
And  seek  their  ruin  that  usurp'd  our  right? 
The  midwdfe  wonder'd,  and  the  women  cried 
'O,  Jesus  bless  us,  he  is  born  with  teeth!' 

153 


Act  V.  Sc.  vi.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

And  so  I  was;  wliich  plainly  signified 

That  I  should  snarl  and  bite  and  play  the  dog. 

Then,  since  the  heavens  have  shaped  my  body 

SO5 
Let  hell  make  crook'd  my  mind  to  answer  it. 
I  have  no  brother,  I  am  like  no  brother ;  '^^ 

And  this  word  'love,'  which  greybeards  call  di- 
vine, 
Be  resident  in  men  like  one  another. 
And  not  in  me:  I  am  myself  alone. 
Clarence,  beware;  thou  keep'st  me  from  the 

light: 
But  I  will  sort  a  pitchy  day  for  thee ; 
For  I  will  buz  abroad  such  prophecies 
That  Edward  shall  be  fearful  of  his  hfe. 
And  then,  to  purge  his  fear,  I  '11  be  thy  death. 
King  Henry  and  the  prince  his  son  are  gone: 
Clarence,  thy  turn  is  next,  and  then  the  rest,  90 
Counting  myself  but  bad  till  I  be  best. 
I  '11  throw  thy  body  in  another  room. 
And  triumph,  Henry,  in  thy 'day  of  doom. 

[Exit,  with  the  body. 

79.  After  this  line,  Theobald  inserts  from  Qq.,  "I  had  no  father, 
1  am  like  no  father." — I.  G. 

93.  The  following  is  Holinshed's  account  of  Henry's  death:  "Here 
is  to  be  remembered,  that  poore  king  Henrie  the  sixt,  a  little  before 
deprived  of  his  realrae  and  imperiall  crowne,  was  now  in  the  Tower 
spoiled  of  his  life  by  Richard  duke  of  Giocester,  as  the  constant 
fame  ran;  who,  to  the  intent  that  his  brother  king  Edward  might 
reigne  in  more  suretie,  murthered  the  said  king  Henrie  with  a  dagger. 
Howl;eit,  some  writers  of  that  time,  favouring  altogither  the  house 
of  Yorke,  have  recorded,  that  after  he  xmderstood  what  losses  had 
chanced  unto  his  freends,  and  how  not  onelie  his  sonne,  but  also  all 
other  his  cheefe  partakers  were  dead  and  despatched,  he  tooke  it  so 
to  hart,  that  of  pure  displeasure,  indignation,  and  melancholia,  he 
died  the  three  and  twentith  of  Maie."— H.  N.  H, 

154 


KING  HEXRY  VI  Act  v.  Sc.  vii. 


Scene  VII 

London.     The  palace. 

Flourish.  Enter  King  Edward^  Queen  Elizabeth, 
Clarence,  Gloucester,  Hastings,  a  Nurse  'with 
the  young  Prince,  and  Attendants. 

K.  Edw.  Once  more  we  sit  in  England's  royal 

throne, 
Re-purchased  with  the  blood  of  enemies. 
What  valiant  foeman,  like  to  autumn's  corn, 
Have  we  mow'd  down  in  tops  of  all  their  pride! 
Three  Dukes  of  Somerset,  threefold  renown'd 
For  hardy  and  undoubted  champions; 
Two  Cliffords,  as  the  father  and  the  son; 
And  two  Northumberlands ;  two  braver  men 
Ne'er  spurr'd  their  coursers  at  the  trumpet's 

sound ; 
With  them,  the  two  brave  bears,  Warwick  and 

Montague,  10 

That  in  their  chains  fetter'd  the  kingly  Hon, 
And  made  the  forest  tremble  when  they  roar'd. 
Thus  have  we  swept  suspicion  from  our  seat, 
And  made  our  footstool  of  security. 
Come  hither,  Bess,  and  let  me  kiss  my  boy. 
Young  Ned,  for  thee,  thine  uncles  and  myself 
Have  in  our  armors  watch'd  the  winter's  night, 
Went  all  afoot  in  summer's  scalding  heat, 
That  thou  mightst  repossess  the  crown  in  peace : 
And  of  our  labors  thou  shalt  reap  the  gain.  -0 

Shk-l-35  155 


Act  V.  Sc.  vii.  THE  THIRD  PART  OF 

Glou.  lAside'\  I  *11  blast  his  harvest,  if  your  head 
were  laid; 
For  yet  I  am  not  look'd  on  in  the  world. 
This  shoulder  was  ordain'd  so  thick  to  heave; 
And  heave  it  shall  some  weight,  or  break  my 

back: 
Work  thou  the  way, — and  thou  shalt  execute. 
K.  Edw.  Clarence  and  Gloucester,  love  my  lovely 
queen ; 
And  kiss  your  princely  nephew,  brothers  both. 
Clar,  The  duty  that  I  owe  unto  your  majesty 

I  seal  upon  the  lips  of  this  sweet  babe. 
Q.  Eliz.  Thanks,  noble  Clarence;  worthy  brother, 
thanks.  30 

Glou.  And,  that  I  love  the  tree  from  whence  thou 
sprang'st. 
Witness  the  loving  kiss  I  give  the  fruit. 
[Aside]  To  say  the  truth,  so  Judas  kiss'd  his 

master. 
And  cried,  'all  hail !'  when  as  he  meant  all  harm. 
K,  Edw.  Now  am  I  seated  as  my  soul  delights, 

Having  my  country's  peace  and  brothers'  loves. 
Clar.  What  will  your  grace  have  done  with  Mar- 
garet ? 
Reignier,  her  father,  to  the  King  of  France 
Hath  pawn'd  the  Sicils  and  Jerusalem, 
And  hither  have  they  sent  it  for  her  ransom.  40 

30.  The  Carab.  editor  quotes  from  Steevens:— "In  my  copy  of  the 
second  Folio,  which  had  belonged  to  King  Charles  the  First,  his 
Majesty  has  erased  Cla.  and  written  King  in  its  stead.  Shakespeare, 
therefore,  in  the  catalogue  of  his  restorers,  may  boast  a  Royal 
name." — I.  G. 

156 


KING  HENRY  VI  Act  V.  Sc.  vii. 

K,  Edxo.  Away  with  her,  and  waft  her  hence  to 
France. 
And  now  what  rests  but  that  we  spend  the  time 
With  stately  triumphs,  mirthful  comic  shows, 
Such  as  befits  the  pleasure  of  the  court? 
Sound  drums  and  trumpets!  farewell  sour  an- 
noy! 
For  here,  I  hope,  begins  our  lasting  joy. 

[EoceunU 


3*7 


GLOSSARY 

By  Israel  Gollancz,  M.A. 


Ahddements,  bad  omens;  IV.  vii. 
13. 

Aboding,  boding;  V.  vi.  45. 

Adventure,  enterprise;  IV.  ii.  18. 

Advertised,  informed;  II.  i.  116. 

iEsop;  an  allusion  to  the  belief 
tliat  he  was  humpbacked 
(hence  the  application  of  the 
name  to  Richard  Crookback); 
V.  V.  25. 

Aims  at,  (1)  endeavors  to  ob- 
tain, III.  ii.  68;  (2)  aim,  guess, 
III.  ii.  68. 

Alms-deed,  act  of  charity;  V.  v. 
79. 

Apparent,  heir-apparent;  II.  ii. 
64. 

Appointed;  "well  a.,"  well 
equipped;  II.  i.  113. 

Argosy,  merchant  ship;  II.  vi.  36. 

Arrived,  reached,  arrived  at;  V. 
iii.  8. 

As,  that;  I.  i.  234. 

Assay,  try,  essay  (Collier,  "es- 
say"); I.  iv.  118. 

Attended,  waited  for;  IV.  vi.  82. 

AwFTTL,  awe-inspiring;  II.  1.  154. 

Balm,  consecrated  oil;  III.  i.  17. 

Bands,  bonds;  I.  i.  186. 

Bandy,  beat  to  and  fro;  I.  iv.  49. 

Basilisk,  a  fabulous  serpent  sup- 
posed to  kill  by  its  look;  III. 
ii.  187. 

Battle,  army,  body  of  troops;  I. 
i.  8,  15. 


Beaver,  helmet;  I.  i.   12. 

Belgia,  Belgium;  IV.  viii.  1. 

Belike,  I  suppose;  I.  i.  51. 

Bells,  "shake  his  bells,"  an  al- 
lusion to  the  small  bells  at- 
tached to  hawks,  to  frighten 
the  birds  hawked  at;  I.  i.  47. 

Betimes,  in  good  time,  before  it 
is  too  late;  V.  iv.  45. 

Bewray,  betray;  I.  i.  211. 

Bishop's  Palace,  the  Palace  of 
the  Bishop  of  London;  V.  1. 
45. 

Blaze,  burn;  V.  iv.  71. 

Blood-sucking  sighs,  referring  to 
the  old  belief  that  with  each 
sigh  the  heart  lost  a  drop  of 
blood;  IV.  iv.  22. 

Bloody,  blood-thirsty,  cruel;  I. 
iii.  2. 

Blunt,  rough;  IV.  viii.  2. 

Bodged,  yielded,  gave  way, 
budged;  (Johnson  conj.  "budg- 
ed," Collier  conj.  "botch'd"); 
I.  iv.  19. 

Bootless,  useless;  I.  iv.  20. 

Boots,  avails;   I.   iv.   125. 

Broach'd,  begun;  II.  ii.  159. 

Bruit,  rumor,  report;  IV.  vii.  64. 

Buckle,  join  in  close  fight 
(Theobald's  correction  (from 
Qq.)  of  Ff.,  "buckler") ;  I.  iv. 
50. 

Buckler,  shield;  III.  iii.  99. 

Bug,  bugbear;  V.  ii.  2. 

But,  except;  IV.  vii.  36. 

158 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


Buy,  aby,  pay  for;  (Grant 
White,  "by,"  from  "abie"  Q. 
1);  V.  i.  C8. 

Callet,  a  woman  of  bad  charac- 
ter; II.  ii.  145. 
Captivates,  makes  captive;  I.  iv. 

115. 
Case,  "if  c,"  if  it  be  the  case,  if 

it  happen;    (F.  4,  "In  case"); 

V.  iv.  34. 
Chafed,  infuriated;  II.  v.  1:26. 
Challenge,  claim;   IV.  vi.  6. 
Chameleox,    a    kind    of    lizard 

whose   color    changes;    III.    ii. 

191. 
Channel,    gutter    (Roderick 

conj.  "kennel");  II.  ii.  141. 
Chahm,  silence,  as  by  a  charm; 

V.  v.  31. 
Chase,  pursuit,  game;  II.  iv.  12. 
Cheerly,  cheerfully;  V.  iv.  2. 
Chid,  driven  by  scolding;  II.  v. 

17. 
Close,  secret;  IV.  v.  17. 
Colors,  standards,  ensigns;   I.  i. 

91. 
Conveyance,    trickery;    III.    iii. 

160. 
Convey'd,  carried  off;  IV.  vi.  81. 
Cony,  rabbit  (F.  1,  "Connie,"  F. 

2,  "Conny") ;  I.  iv.  62. 
Coverture,  covert,  shelter;  (War- 
burton,  "overture") ;  IV.  ii.  13. 

Darraign,  range;  II.  ii.  72. 

Dazzle,  "d.  mine  eyes,"  are  my 
eyes  dazzled?;  II.  i.  25. 

Dearest,  best,  most  precious;  V. 
i.  69. 

Deck,  pack  of  cards;  V.  i.  44. 

Delicates,  delicacies;  I.  v.  51. 

Demean'd,  behaved;  I.  iv.  7. 

Depart,  death,  II.  i.  110;  depar- 
ture, going  awaj',  IV.  i.  92. 

Depaktikg,  parting;  II.  vi.  43. 

Despite,  spite,  malice;  II.  i.  59. 

1 


Detect,  betray;  II.  ii.  143. 

Disannuls,  annuls,  cancels;  III. 
iii.  81. 

Done,  done  with,  fwiished  with; 
IV.  i.  104. 

Done  his  shrift,  heard  the  con- 
fession and  granted  absolu- 
tion; III.  ii.  107. 

DouiJT,  fear;  IV.  viii.  37, 

Doubted,  feared;  IV.  iii.  19. 

Downright,  straight  down;  I.  i. 
12. 

Eager,  bitter;  II    vi.  68. 

Ean,  bring  forth  young  (Ff.  1, 
2,  "Eane";  Theobald,  "yean"); 
II.  V.  36. 

Effuse,  effusion;  II.  vi.  28. 

Embassade,  embassy;  (Capell, 
from  Qq.,  "embassage");  IV. 
iii.  32. 

Empty,  hungry;  I.  i.  268. 

Encounter,  fight,  combat;  V.  iii. 
5. 

Enlargement,  release  from  con- 
finement; IV.  vi.  5. 

Extraught,  extracted,  derived; 
II.  ii.  142. 

Falchion,  scimitar,  sword;  I.  iv. 

12. 
Fear,    affright,   terrify;    III.   iii. 

226. 
Fear'd,     affrighted,     frightened; 

(Rowe,  "scar'd");  V.  ii.  2. 
Fearful,  timorous,  I.  i.  2o;  II.  ii. 

30;    terrible,    dreadful;    II.    ii. 

27. 
Fence,  defend,  guard;  II.  vi.  75. 
Figures,  reveals;  II.  i.  32. 
Fires,  dissyllabic;  II.  i.  83. 
Foil,  defeat;  V.  iv.  42. 
Fondly,  foolishly;   II.  ii.  38. 
For,  as  regards;  IV.  iii.  48. 
FoRFEND,  forbid;  II.  i.   191. 
Forgery,  lie,  deception;   III.   iii. 

175. 

59 


Glossary 


THE  THIRD  PART  OF 


Forlork;  "a  f,,"  an  outcast; 
(Collier  MS.,  "all  forlorn"); 
III.  iii.  26. 

FoRSLOw,  delay;  (Ff.  1,  2,  "Fore- 
slow";  Ff.  3,  4,  "Fore-slow")', 
II.  iii.  56. 

Forspent,  exhausted ;  (Ff ., 
"Forespent";  Rann  (from 
Qq.),  "Sore  spent");  II.  iii.  1. 

Iorward  of,  eager  for;  IV.  viii. 
46. 

Fretting,  violently  agitating;  II. 
vi.  35. 

Gallant,    spruce    fellow;    used 

ironically;  V.  v.  12. 
Gallia,  Gaul;  V.  iii.  8. 
Ghostly,  spiritual;  III.  ii.  107. 
Gin,  snare;  I.  iv.  61. 
Government,  self-control;  I.  iv. 

132. 
Grant,  granting,  bestowing;  III. 

iii.  130. 

Hand;  "out  of  h.,"  at  once;  IV. 
vii.  63. 

Haply,  fortunately;  II.  v.  58. 

Hard-favor'd,  hard-featured, 
ugly;  V.  v.  78. 

Hasty,  rash,  passionate;  (Wal- 
ker conj.  "lusty";  Cartwright 
conj.  "hardy")',  IV.  viii.  2. 

Haught,  haughty;  II.  i.  169. 

Ha\t;  at  thee,  take  care,  be 
warned;  II.  iv.  11. 

He,  man;  I.  i.  46. 

Head,  making,  raising  an  army; 
II.  i.  141. 

Heir,  heiress;  IV.  i.  48. 

Henry,  trisyllabic;  I.  i.  107. 

Hold,  stronghold;  I.  ii.  52. 

Homely,  humble;  II.  v.  22. 

Honesty,  chastity;  III.  ii.  72. 

Hour  (dissyllabic) ;  II.  v.  26,  31, 
32,  33,  &c. 

Hyrcania,  a  country  on  the  Cas- 
pian Sea;  I.  iv.  155. 


Icarus,  the  son  of  Daedalus,  who, 
attempting  to  imitate  the  ex- 
ample of  his  father  and  fly  on 
wings,  was  drowned  (Ovid, 
Meta.  viii.) ;  V.  vi.  21. 

Impale,  encircle;  III.  iii.  189. 

Impeach,  reproach;  I.  iv.  60. 

Indigested,  shapeless;  V.  vi.  51. 

Inferring,  bringing  forward;  II. 
ii.  44. 

Injurious,  insulting.  III.  iii.  78; 
unjust,  III.  iii.  101. 

Inly,  inward;  I.  iv.  171. 

Inviolable,  not  to  be  broken;  II. 
i.  30. 

Irks;  "it  i.,"  it  pains;  II.  ii.  6. 

Lade,  ladle,  bale  out;  III.'  ii.  139. 

Lane,  passage;  I.  iv.  9. 

Latjnd,     lawn,     glade;     (Capell, 

"lawn")'.  III.  i.  2. 
Leatsl,  aim;  II.  ii.  19. 
Lime,  join,  cement;  V.  i.  84. 
Limed,  caught  by  bird-lime;  V. 

vi.  13. 
'Long,  along  of,  owing  to;  (Ff., 

"long") ;  IV.  vii.  32. 

Machiavel,  used  proverbially  for 

a    crafty    politician;    JII.    ii. 

193. 
Magnanimity,    heroic    bravery; 

V.  iv.  41. 
Malapert,  pert,  saucy;  V.  v.  S2. 
Male,  male-parent;  V.  vi.  15. 
Man  at  arms,  armed  knight;  V. 

iv.  42. 
Manhood,  bravery,  courage;  IV. 

ii.  20. 
Marches,  country-borders;  II.  i. 

140. 
Meeds,  deserts,  merits;  II.  i.  36. 
Mermaid,  siren;  III.  ii.  186. 
Mess,  set  of  four,  "as  at  great 

dinners      the     company     wag 

usually    arranged   into    fours" 

(Nares);  I.  iv.  73. 


160 


KING  HENRY  VI 


Glossary 


MnND,  mean,  have  a  mind;  IV.  i. 

8 
MiSDOuuTETH,  distrusts;  V.  vi.  14. 
MiSTiiiNK,  misjudge;  II.  v,  108. 
MoE,  more;  II.  i.  170. 
Motion,  proposal;  III.  iii.  244, 
MouGiiT,    the    reading    of     Ff. ; 

miglit,    could;    (CapcU    (Qq.), 

'■could";    Pope,    "might")-,    V. 

ii.  45. 
Muse,    marvel,   wonder;    III.    ii. 

109. 

Naked,  unarmed;  V.  iv.  42. 
Napkix,  handkerchief;   I.  iv.  79. 
Narrow    seas,    English   Channel; 

IV.  viii.  3. 
Neat,  horned  cattle;  II.  i.  14. 
Nestor,    the    oldest    and    wisest 

hero  before  Troy;  III.  ii.  188. 
Nice,  subtile,  sophistical;  IV.  vii, 

58. 

Obsequious,  lavish  of  obsequies; 

II.  V.  118. 
Of,  instead  of,  from  being;  III. 

iii.  25. 
Only,    alone;    (Pope,    "alone"); 

IV.  i.  45. 
Overgone,   overcome;   II.   v.   123. 
Ovehpeer'd,    looked    down    upon, 

towered  above;  V.  ii.  14. 

Pale,  enclose,  encompass;   I.  iv. 

103. 
Parcel,  part;  V.  vi.  38. 
Passing,  surpassing;  V.  i.  106. 
Passion,    violent    sorrow;    I,    iv. 

150. 
Period,  end,  finish;  V.  v.  1. 
Pies,  magpies;  V.  vi.  48. 
Pixch'i),  bitten;  VI.  i.  16, 
Pitiful,  merciful;   III.  ii.  32. 
Place;   "in   p.,"   present;   IV.   i. 

103. 
Pleaseth;    "him    p.,"    it    pleases 

him;  II.  vi.  105. 


i6i 


Pleasure,  give  pleasure;  (Ff.  2, 
3,  4,  ''please";  Collier  MS., 
"please  you  too");  III.  ii.  32. 

Poltroons,  cowards;  (Ff.,  "Poul- 
trounes") ;  I.  i.  62, 

Post,  messenger;  V.  i.  1. 

Post,  haste;  I.  ii.  48. 

Post,  hasten;  I.  ii.  55, 

Posted   off,   put   off   carelessly; 

IV,  viii,  40, 

Power,  force,  army;  II.  i.  177, 

Prancing,  bounding;  II.  i.  24. 

Preachment,  high-flown  dis- 
course; I.  iv,  73, 

Prepare,  preparation;  IV.  i.  131. 

Prescription,  right  derived  from 
immemorial  custom;  III.  iii, 
94. 

Peesenteth,  represents  (Steev- 
ens,  "present");  II.  v.  100. 

Presently,  immediately;  I.  ii,  36, 

Pretend,  assert;  IV,  vii,  57. 

Prick,  mark,  dial-point;  I.  iv.  34. 

Prize,  privilege  (Warburton 
(from  Qq.),  "pride";  Walker 
conj.  "praise");  II.  i.  20. 

Proteus,  the  marine  god,  who  had 
the  facultj'  of  assuming  what- 
ever shape  he  pleased;  III,  ii, 
192, 

Quaintly,  pleasantly;  II,  v,  24. 
Quit,    requite,    reward;    III.    iii. 
128. 

Racking,  moving  as  clouds;  II.  i. 

27. 
Ragged,  rugged;  (Ff,,  "raged"); 

V,  iv,  27, 

Ramping,  rampant;  V,  ii.  13. 

R  A  u  G  II  T  ,   reached;    (Ff.   3,  4, 

"caught") ;  I.  iv.  68. 
Remorse,  pitv,  compassion;  III,  i. 

40. 
Rends,    tears    asunder;     (Ff., 

'rents");  III.  ii.  175. 


Glossary 


THE  THIRD  PART  OF 


Repair,  repairing  hither;  (Ff.  1, 
2,  "repay re";  Ff.  3,  4,  "re- 
pair") ;  V.  i.  20. 

Resolve,  come  to  a  determina- 
tion; I.  i.  49. 

Respect;  "in  r.,"  in  comparison; 
y.  V.  56. 

Rest,  remain;  IV.  ii.  8. 

Resteth,  remaineth;  I.  ii.  44. 

Retire,  retreat,  flight;  II.  i.  150. 

Revolt,  fall  oflF;  I.  i.  151. 

Rhesus,  the  Tbracian  King  who 
came  to  the  assistance  of  Troy, 
but  was  slaughtered  at  night 
by  Ulysses  and  Diomede;  IV. 
ii.  20. 

Rids;  "r.  away,"  i,  e.  gets  rid  of 
distance;  V.  iii.  21. 

Rook'd,  squatted;  V.  vi.  47. 

Roscius,  the  most  celebrated  ac- 
tor of  ancient  Rome;  (Pope's 
emendation;  Ff.,  "Rossius"; 
Hanmer  (Warburton)  "Rich- 
ard") ;  V.  vi.  10. 

Ruinate,  ruin;  V.  i.  83. 

R  tj  T  H  F  u  L ,  piteous;  (Ff.  3,  4, 
"rueful") ;  II.  y.  95. 

Sadxess,  seriousness;  III.  ii.  77. 

Saxctuarv,  the  sanctuary  at 
Westminster,  which  afforded 
protection  from  any  persecu- 
tion; IV.  iv.  31. 

Scrupulous,  "too  nice  in  deter- 
minations of  conscience";  IV. 
vii.  61. 

Self-place,  self-same  place,  very 
place;  III.  1.  11. 

Selfsame,  the  selfsame;  (Han- 
mer, "th'  self-same") ;  II.  i. 
82. 

Sennet,  a  particular  set  of  notes 
on  the  cornet  or  trumpet;  I.  i. 
206. 

Septentriok,  the  North;  I.  iv. 
136. 


Service;  "do  thee  s.,"  become  thy 
servitor";  V.  i.  33. 

Shame-faced,  bashful;  IV.  viii. 
52. 

Ship,  take  ship;  (F.  1,  "shipt"; 
Vaughan  conj.  "shipp'd") ;  IV. 
V.  21. 

Shoot,  shot;  III.  i.  7. 

Shriver,  confessor;  III.  ii.  108. 

Shrouds,  sail-ropes;  V.  iv.  18. 

SiciLS,  Sicilies;  I.  iv.  122. 

Silly,  innocent,  helpless;  II.  v. 
43;  petty,  poor;  used  contemp- 
tuously; III.  iii.  93. 

Sinew  together,  knit  in  strength ; 
(Ff.  1,  2,  3,  "sinow  t.") ;  II.  vi. 
91. 

SiNON,  the  Greek  who  persuaded 
the  Trojans  to  carry  the  wood- 
en horse  into  Troy;  III.  ii.  190. 

Sith,  since;  I.  i.  110. 

Slaughter-man,  slayer,  butcher; 
I.  iv.  169. 

Sleight,  artifice,  trickery ; 
(Rowe,  "slight") ;  IV.  ii.  20. 

Sometime,  sometimes;  II.  ii.  30. 

Soothe,  to  assent  to  as  being 
true,  to  humor;  (Ff.,  "sooth"; 
Rann,  Heath  conj.  "smooth"); 
III.  iii.  175. 

SoBT,  crew,  set;  II.  ii.  97. 

Sorts,  turns  out  well;  II.  i.  209. 

Spite,  vexation,  mortification;  V. 
i.  18. 

Spite  of  spite,  come  the  worst 
that  may;  II.  iii.  5. 

Spleen;  "heated  s.,"  fiery  im- 
petuosity, heat;  (Warburton, 
"hated  s.")  ;  II.  i.  124. 

Sport,  disport,  amuse;  II.  v.  34. 

Stale,  laughing-stock,  dupe;  III. 
iii.  260. 

State,  station,  rank;  III.  ii.  93. 

Stay,  linger;  III.  iii.  40. 

Stigmatic,  one  branded  by  na- 
ture with  deformity;  II.  ii.  13fi. 


162 


KING  HENRY  Yl 


Glossary 


Stout,  brave;  IV.  ii.  19. 
Stiiataoems, dreadful  deeds;  (Ff. 

1,  3,  "stnujerns")  ;   II.   v.  89. 
Strike;  "to  s.,"  to  lower  sail;  V. 

i.  52. 
Strike  sail,  lower,  let  down  sail; 

III.  iii.  5. 

Success,  result,  issue;   II.  ii.  46. 
Suddenly,  quickly;  IV.  ii.  i. 
Suffer'd,  allowed   to  have  way; 

IV.  viii.  8. 

Suspect,  suspicion;  IV.  i.  143. 

Tacklincs,  cordage,  rigging  (tri- 
syllabic); V.  iv.  18. 

Tainted,  touched,  moved;  III.  1. 
40. 

Take  on,  be  furious;  II.  v.  104. 

Temper  with  the  stabs,  act  and 
think  in  conformity  with  fate; 
IV.  vi.  !29. 

Time;  "take  the  t.,"  improve  the 
opportunity;  V.  i.  48. 

TiREON,  seize  and  feed  on  raven- 
ously; I.  i.  269. 

Title,  claim,  right;  (Grey  conj. 
"tah")'.  III.  i.  48. 

Toward,  bold;  II.  ii.  66. 

Trow'st,  thinkest;  (Ff.,  "trow- 
est")  ;  V.  i.  85. 

Trot;  "the  hope  of  T.,"  i.  e.  Hec- 
tor; II.  i.  51. 

Trull,  harlot;  I.  iv.  114. 

Trumpet,  trumpeter;  V.  i.  16. 

Type,  sign,  badge  (i.  e.  the 
crown);  (Lloyd  conj.  "style"); 
I.  iv.  121. 

Ulysses,    the     famous    king    of 

Ithaca;  III.  ii.  189. 
Undid,  unbidden,  unwelcome;  V. 

i.  18. 
Unconstant,    inconstant;    V.    i. 

102. 
Undoubted*      fearless;      (Capell 

conj.  "redoubted")  ;  V.  vii.  6. 
Unreasonable,  not  endowed  with 

reason;  II.  ii.  26. 


Untutoh'd,  uninstructed,  raw ;  V. 

v.  32. 
Unwares,  unawares;   (F.  4,  "un- 

au-ares" ;   Hanmer,  "un'wares"; 

Vaughan  conj.  "unware")\  II. 

V.  62. 
UsEST,  art  aecustomed;  V.  v.  75. 
Valued,  rated,  estimated;  V.  iii. 

14. 
Vantages,  advantages;  III.  ii.  25. 
Venom,    venomous,    poisonous 

(Capell,    (from    Q.    3),    "ven- 

om'd") ;  II.  ii.  138. 
Via,  away!  an  interjection  of  en- 
couragement; II.  i.  182. 
Visard-like,  like   a  mask;   I.  iv. 

116. 
Vowed,  sworn;  III.  iii.  50. 

Waft  over,  carry  over  the  sea; 

III.  iii.  253. 

Waned,  declined;  (Ff., 
"warned") ;  IV.  vii.  4. 

Water-flowing,  flowing  like  wa- 
ter, copious;  IV.  viii.  43. 

Wean  me,  alienate  myself;  (Ff. 
1,  2,  "waine";  Ff.  3,  4,  "wain") ; 

IV.  iv.  17. 

Weeping-ripe,  ready  to  weep; 
(Ff.,  "weeping  ripe") ;  I.  iv. 
172. 

When?  an  exclamation  of  impa- 
tience; V.  i.  49. 

Willow  garland,  the  emblem  of 
unhappy  love;  III.  iii.  228. 

Wind,  scent;  III.  ii.  14. 

Wisp  of  Straw,  a  mark  of  dis- 
grace placed  on  the  heads  of 
scolds;  II.  ii.  144. 

Wtt,  wisdom;  IV.  vii.  61. 

Witch,  bewitch;  (Ff.,  "'witch"); 
III.  ii.  150. 

Withal,  with;  III.  ii.  91. 

Wirri-,  full  of  wit,  intelligent;  I. 
ii.  43. 


YouNKER,  stripling;  II.  i.  24. 


163 


STUDY  QUESTIONS 


GENERAL 

1.  What  are  the  Chronicle  accounts  of  the  traits  and 
person  of  Henry  ? 

2.  Is  there  any  scene  in  which  Margaret  is  allowed  by 
the  poet  to  exhibit  a  noble,  natural  emotion? 

3.  Describe  the  dramatic  effect  of  the  union  of  Henry 
and  Margaret. 

4.  What  characters  serve  especially  as  types  of  the  feu- 
dal baronage  at  the  height  of  its  power? 

5.  What  episodes  and  incidents  has  the  poet  utilized 
throughout,  to  give  dramatic  variety  to  the  handling  of 
the  material  he  had  for  this  play? 

6.  What  is  the  historic  center  of  action  of  the  Third 
Part  of  King  Henry  VI?  Does  it  coincide  with  the  dra- 
matic crisis? 

7.  What  are  the  characteristics  of  Richard,  as  dramat- 
ically set  forth  throughout  the  play?  In  what  way  are 
his  speeches,  as  well  as  his  covert  comment  upon  doings 
about  him  and  upon  the  characters  and  estate  of  others, 
significant  of  future  events? 

ACT    I 

8.  What  was  the  historic  interval  between  the  battle  of 
St.  Albans  and  the  parliament  at  Westminster,  the  proceed- 
ings of  which  are  represented  in  this  act? 

9.  Compare  hnes  9  and  55  of  scene  i,  and  explain  prob- 
able cause  of  variance. 

10.  What  was  the  earldom  by  which  Richard  claimed  the 

crown  ? 

164 


KING  HENRY  VI  Study  Questions 

11.  What  have  the  Chronicles  to  say  of  the  proceedings 
at  the  Parhament  House  when  Warwick  placed  York  upon 
the  throne? 

12.  Give  the  Chronicle  account  of  the  reconciliation  of 
York  and  Lancaster  with  regard  to  the  claim  to  the  crown. 

13.  Describe  the  dramatic  impression  of  the  scene  of  the 
colloquy  in  the  Parliament. 

14.  W^hat  picturesque  and  lawless  character  was  ap- 
pointed by  Warwick  vice-admiral  of  the  sea.'*  What  pas- 
sage had  he  in  charge  and  why? 

15.  To  what  three  lords  does  Henry  refer  in  line  270, 
scene  i? 

16.  How  do  the  Chronicles  describe  the  preliminaries  to 
the  Battle  of  Wakefield?  The  battle  itself?  The  death 
of  young  Rutland? 

17.  What  is  the  impression  of  the  dramatic  scene  of 
young  Rutland's  death? 

18.  Describe  the  dramatic  character  of  the  scene  of 
York's  death.  Characterize*  the  behavior  of  Clifford  as 
compared  with  that  of  York. 

19.  What  is  the  Chronicle  account  of  the  scene? 

20.  Compare  Shakespeare's  presentment  of  Margaret  in 
this  scene  with  his  presentment  of  his  most  relentless  war- 
riors in  other  similar  scenes ;  what  conclusion  may  be 
drawn  as  to  the  poet's  idea  of  what  the  passions  of  battle 
or  selfish  ambition  would  develop  in  a  woman  as  compared 
with  their  effect  upon  a  man? 

21.  Compare  Northumberland's  expressions  of  feeling 
with  Margaret's  passages  ; — with  Clifford's. 

ACT   n 

22.  What  do  the  chroniclers  relate  as  the  cause  for 
Edward's  taking  the  sun  for  his  cognizance? 

23.  What  effect  did  the  second  Battle  of  St.  Albans  have 
upon  the  general  situation? 

24.  How  does  Edward  mean  to  characterize  Margaret 
by  his  allusion  in  line  144,  scene  ii? 

165 


study  Questions  THE   THIRD   PART   OF 

25.  What  passages  in  scene  ii  set  forth  the  feehng  of 
York's  sons  toward  Henry  personally? 

26.  What  is  the  historical  account  of  Edward's  march 
to  London  after  the  second 'battle  of  St.  Albans? 

27.  What  is  the  moral  substance  of  scene  v?  How 
does  it  depict  Henry's  real  nature? 

28.  Give  the  historic  account  of  the  Battle  of  Towton. 

29.  What  is  the  chronicler's  comment  on  the  title  of 
Gloscester?     What  line  in  Richard's  mouth  recalls  this? 

ACT   in 

30.  What  occurred  in  the  historic  interval  between  the 
events  of  Act  II  and  Act  III? 

31.  What  line  of  Henry's  in  scene  i  shows  his  realization 
of  his  nature  as  related  to  the  place  of  ruler  he  held? 

32.  Give  an  account,  other  than  that  of  the  Chronicles, 
of  the  capture  of  King  Henry. 

33.  What  side  lights  are  thrown  on  the  character  of 
Edward  by  the  asides  of  Gloscester  and  Clarence  in  scene 
ii?  Does  the  historic  report  of  Edward  give  color  to  this 
innuendo  ? 

34.  What  account  do  the  Chronicles  give  of  the  meet- 
ing of  Edward  and  Lady  Grey?  In  what  respects  does 
the  dramatic  scene  of  it  express  the  poet's  best  portrayal 
of  women? 

35.  What  was  the  historic  truth  of  lines  81  and  82, 
scene  iii? 

36.  To  what  facts  does  Oxford  refer  in  lines  102-106 
of  scene  iii? 

37.  According  to  Shakespeare,  what  was  the  cause  of 
the  break  between  Warwick  and  Edward?  Did  the  Poet 
have  historical  warrant  for  assigning  this  cause? 

38.  What  title  does  Margaret  give  Warwick  which  is 
indicative  of  his  political  power? 

39.  What  is  the  discrepancy  in  War\vick's  statement  in 
lines  186-187? 


166 


KING   HENRY   VI  Study  Questions 

ACT    IV 

40.  what  unjust  disposition  of  lands  was  given  into  the 
king's  power,  up  to  the  time  of  the  Restoration? 

41.  What  is  Hohnshed's  account  of  the  king's  advance- 
ment of  his  wife's  family? 

42.  What  was  Lady  Grey's  lineage? 

43.  Give  the  Chronicle  account  of  the  capture  of  Ed- 
ward. Of  his  release.  What  has  Dr.  Lingard  to  say  of 
the  two  incidents? 

44.  What  have  the  chroniclers  to  say  of  Henry,  Earl  of 
Riclimond,  and  the  incident  of  which  Shakespeare  makes 
use  in  scene  v? 

45.  Give  the  historic  account  of  Edward's  flight  to 
Burgundy  and  his  return. 

46.  Give  the  historic  account  of  the  betrayal  of  Henry. 

ACT    V 

47.  How  does  Hall  explain  the  withdrawal  from  Cov- 
entry to  Barnet  for  the  battle  which  took  place  there? 

48.  Describe  Warwick's  death,  both  in  the  drama,  and 
according  to  the  Chronicles. 

49.  What  is  the  character  of  Margaret's  invocation  to 
her  followers  in  scene  iv? 

50.  What  is  the  historic  account  of  the  Battle  of  Tewks- 

burv  ? 

51.  To  what  suspicion  concerning  Richard  does  Clar- 
ence refer  in  lines  8^84,  scene  v? 


167 


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